Believe
by pineapplefreak
Summary: One shots and mini-arcs about anything RotG, but it will probably be mostly about Jack. All set in the same universe, but not necessarily in chronological order. Please R&R, and I welcome prompts with open arms! (Chapter 46: In Tooth's opinion, Jack's best feature was his smile.)
1. Silent Night

The silence weighed on Jack like a tangible thing. It was heavy and unbearable, and Jack almost found it hard to breathe. He looked up at the moon from his perch on his staff and sighed, just to lessen the quiet. But the brief sound of his exhale was quickly swallowed up by the oppressive silence and everything was left even quieter than before.

It had been two weeks since he had risen up out of the lake on which he now stood, knowing nothing but his name. He had quickly learned of the mystical powers he possessed and that he was invisible and untouchable to every person he had tried to reach out to. Every night had been like this one, and the silence, combined with the loneliness and the darkness, was starting to get to him.

The wind blew out of the north, curling around Jack's still figure. Jack was still not sure what his standing was with the wind, but it certainly seemed to like carrying him on its back. It called to him now, playful and excited. When Jack did not respond, however, it quickly sobered. After a few more attempts at arousing the boy, it gave up and whooshed away to do whatever it is that the winds do.

Jack regretted ignoring the wind as soon as it was gone; he knew he should not have done so. He knew all too well what it was like to be ignored. And the wind's rushing sound in his ears had, just for a moment, taken away the crushing pressure of the silence. He knew that if he was to stay sane, he had to do something to keep that pressure at bay.

Jack cleared his throat, which was dry and rough from screaming at the people in the town to see him, to touch him, to do_ anything_ to show him that he really existed, that he was not some sort of mass hallucination. His voice cracked a bit as he began to hum, softly at first but with increasing strength. It was not any particular tune, but as it went on he realized that it had evolved into a song he knew, though he could not say how. His humming turned to words, and before he knew it he was singing, a soothing lullaby with words that simply sprang to his lips without any conscious effort.

In the back of his mind he could almost hear another voice accompanying him, soft and sweet and female. He felt as if he should know that voice; he struggled to hold onto it, to find out who it was. But as the last notes of the melody faded away, so did the distant voice- or was it a memory?

The silence was back now, but it was not oppressive like it had been before. No, now it was almost peaceful. Jack closed his eyes, allowing the rhythm of the lullaby to reverberate in his mind even as it disappeared from the air. Big, soft snowflakes began to gently fall, and Jack jumped off his staff and migrated to the nearest tree. Leaning his head against the bark, he allowed himself to drift to sleep. He knew now that the silence could always be broken.

Before long the ground was coated in a soft down of white that reflected the silver beams of the moon.


	2. Frostbite

**So that last chapter was my first thing to post on fanfiction EVER! What did you think?**

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The little colonial town was covered in a blanket of snow, the good kind that stuck together to make excellent snowballs and snowmen. It was fresh and undisturbed, having just fallen the previous night. Slowly the sun began to rise, illuminating the blinding white of the snow. Not far away, on a hill overlooking the village, Jack stood watching the sunrise from a tree in anticipation.

It would not be long now before the sleepy little town awoke and began its everyday business. The snow was a surprise for the children, for there had been no sign of it yesterday evening. Jack had waited until all the children had gone to bed before letting the flakes fall; they had gone asleep to barren ground and would awake to a wondrous land of white. A smile quirked Jack's lips when he thought of the expressions that would adorn each child's face.

The sun was only halfway above the horizon when the first door opened. A small boy was revealed to be standing there. For a moment he simply stared at the wintry landscape in wonder, but a moment later he snapped out of his trance and jumped in excitement before turning back into the house. He was yelling words that were unintelligible to Jack from this distance, but he understood the meaning. After that first house had awakened it was not long before the others did as well. Small heads peeked out from doorways and little noses pressed up against windows, each face showing the same joy. Happiness rose inside Jack. There was nothing quite like the first snowfall of winter to lift his spirits.

Jack lifted off from his branch and let the wind carry him as best it could down to the village; he was still a little shaky when it came to flying. He landed clumsily, flipping head over heels before coming to rest right at the edge of the little town. Doors were opening again, and Jack could see the faces of the children, now bundled up in coats, mittens, and boots. No one seemed quite willing to be the first to disturb the untouched snow.

That is, until one boy, the one who had been the first to awaken, pushed past his older sibling hovering in the doorway and ran, laughing and spinning, into the blanket of snow. That seemed to break the spell; all at once the children poured into the central area, hollering and kicking up showers of snow. Almost immediately they divided into two groups and Jack grinned; he could see where this was going. He formed a snowball in his hand and waited until everyone was on a team, and then he threw it.

It hit the biggest of the children smack in the face, and all of a sudden everyone was yelling, laughing, and trying to seek cover from the torrent of snowballs that came as a response. Jack was right in the thick of it, laughing alongside the children while getting in quite a few good hits of his own. He stepped back for a moment, smiling as he viewed his work. But then his smile slipped, for he saw one child who was not quite into it as the rest. She stood off to the side, watching but not really participating. Her long brown hair fell in her face, but Jack could still see the sadness in her brown eyes. That wasn't right. It was the first snowball fight of the season, and everyone should be enjoying it. He didn't want this girl to be so sad; he wanted her to smile and have fun right alongside the rest.

The snowball he held in his hand suddenly flared blue and he nearly dropped it in surprise. He held it up and inspected it closely, but the flash of blue was gone now and it looked no different than before. Yet something told him to throw it, to see what it would do. So he did. His aim was perfect; it hit the sad girl square in the face. She stumbled backward, startled, and for a moment Jack thought perhaps he should not have done that. But then her eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle like ice in the first rays of the day, and her sad frown changed into a smile. She laughed, and within moments was throwing snowballs with uncanny accuracy and smiling so big it seemed to split her face in half.

Jack looked at his hand curiously and formed another snowball. He tried to replicate the feelings he had had a moment ago, the thoughts of fun times keeping sadness at bay. Just as before, the snowball flashed with blue light for a moment before returning to its original state. He threw this one too, and the child it hit went from looking slightly bored to just as fresh-faced as they had been in the beginning. With a laugh the child ran into the fray, and Jack couldn't keep from laughing too. He experimented with this strange new power and discovered it could be transferred into snowflakes as well. In no time at all every boy and girl had sparkling eyes that were filled with joy.

The snowball fight lasted longer than any Jack had been in before, and it probably would have gone on for longer had the children's parents not called them inside to dry off, warm up, and start the day's chores. Soon everyone had retreated inside, leaving behind print-covered snow and heaps of unused snowballs. The fun was over, but Jack was not put off. It had been the first snowball fight of the day, but with his newfound power he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last.

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**Hope you enjoyed! Oh, and thanks to my three followers who I can hardly believe I have! You guys make me feel so good about myself :) Now if I could just get some reviews...**


	3. Bitter Cold

**This idea just sort of came to me in the middle of History today. It's set during World War 2, so it's a bit of a major jump in the timeline. Sorry about that, but I wanted to get it written before I forgot it.**

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Jack was flying somewhere over Poland when he saw it. He probably wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't been for the smoke.

He had been coming back from Russia, where he had been making a particularly fierce winter. He was aware there was a war going on; he often saw troops in battlefields below and it wasn't very safe for him to fly over England anymore, what with all the dogfights in the sky over there. He didn't know enough about who was fighting and why to choose a side, and so he usually didn't aid in any way. Recently though, there had been a long siege against Leningrad over in Russia. Jack rather liked Leningrad, and he didn't take kindly to watching the people trapped inside deteriorate and often die of starvation because of the invaders cutting off supplies. The soldiers could try and take the city, but he certainly wasn't going to make it easy for them. They were calling it the worst Russian winter in decades, and though Jack felt a little bad about making the invading men suffer, he consoled himself by saying that they shouldn't have invaded in the first place.

So now he was heading back towards America, to his lake in Burgess. But something about that smoke made him pause and look closer. The smoke seemed to be coming, thick and fast, from a several chimneys on a single building. This building, as well as many other low bunkers, was in a huge area that was surrounded by barbed wire. He could see people down there, many hundreds of people. Curious, he swooped down to the strange place even as the wind begged him to leave. It didn't like this place, and Jack wanted to know why.

He landed outside a main gate with an arch where there were several cattle trucks driving in. He saw the people inside, cold and frightened looking, and looked up to read the words on the arch.

ARBEIT MACHT FREI, they said. Jack recognized them as German, and he knew what they meant. _Work Makes You Free._

Jack cautiously ventured inside just as the gate swung shut, his grip tight on his staff. Almost subconsciously he put up the hood on his hoodie. He looked around him at the people and was shocked by what he saw. They were all so thin, skeletal almost. Their faces were pale and gaunt. Their hair was messily shaved close to their heads, and they wore striped uniforms that did not fit.

But what bothered him most was not any of these, nor was it the numbers tattooed on their arms, or even the fact that there were men, women, and _children_ among the crowd. No, what really hit Jack hard were their eyes. They were deadened and hopeless and terrified and wearily sad. Even the children looked this way, and something told Jack it would take a lot more than a magic snowflake to bring the sparkle back into their eyes. They could not see him, and he was used to that, but he somehow knew that if the Guardians were here they would not be seen either.

_The Guardians,_ Jack thought angrily. Where were they? Wasn't it their job to protect the children? The fear in the air was so poignant even Jack could taste it, so that meant that Pitch must be here too. It was a mystery to him why the high and mighty Guardians had not already swooped in and intervened, why these children were not safe at home in their beds.

If he had seen such horrors just in the entrance to this nightmarish place, then he did not want to know what lay farther within, what that morbid black smoke really was, whether or not those shapes dangling from rope along the barbed wire fence were what he thought they were. He wavered in place, torn. He wanted to flee, and yet he so desperately wanted to help, even though he knew the only thing he could do was make them more cold and miserable.

So he compromised. He decided to wait until nightfall for the golden strands of dreamsand that were sure to come. He would follow them to their source and alert the Sandman of what exactly was happening here. He could go to the North Pole, of course, but after a couple centuries of trying to break in he doubted the yetis would let him see the big man even if he tried to explain the reason.

Judging by the sun's position, he would not have to wait long. He settled atop the entrance gate and kept his gaze on the sun, doing his best not to think too much about the sharp popping noises and screams that were coming from within the horrible place. _Any minute now,_ he thought. _Please, Sandman._

Soon the sun sank below the horizon and many of the people retreated to the bunkers. Jack knew that that was where they went to sleep, that streams of gold would soon color this bleak night sky. He waited and waited, but it was for naught. Nothing came; there was only the shifting shadows surrounding the places where the people slept. Apparently this place was too godforsaken even for dreams. There were only nightmares to be found here.

_Come,_ the wind whispered to him as he stared in disbelief at the sky, trying to will the dreamsand into existence. _There is nothing you can do here._ It tugged at him, blowing off his hood and ruffling his snow white hair. Reluctantly, Jack rose into the air, sparing one last glance at the place of death and despair, and let the wind carry him away. He felt like a coward and a failure. He could not stop a few tears from rolling down his cheeks, and he knew that even if he truly did live forever he would never forget what he had seen.

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**I'm not an expert on WW2 or Auschwitz or the Holocaust, so please excuse any mistakes in the timing of the events or descriptions.**


	4. The Fall of Kozmotis Pitchiner

***GASP* Is that a second update in one day? I think it is! This one is a major jump backwards in the timeline, and it has a change of perspective to boot.**

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Kozmotis Pitchiner paced impatiently back and forth across the marble floor of the enormous room, his golden robes swirling about him. The prisoners were restless today; he could feel the ground shudder with their attempts at escape. They would not break free, Kozmotis knew; only he could open their prison door. And that was never going to happen. Nevertheless, he could not simply sit still through all the commotion. It got him worked up and ready for battle, although the time for battle had passed.

In an effort to calm his jangling nerves, he pulled off the chain that hung around his neck and opened the locket that hung from it. He felt himself relax considerably when he saw the picture inside; his daughter's sweet face framed by long dark hair never failed to calm him. She was his everything, and he longed to be with her. That was not likely to happen, however. She was still just a child and his line of work held too much danger and risk. And so, he was shut up here in this prison disguised as a palace all by himself with no one and nothing for company but the fearlings he had jailed.

As if to emphasize his thoughts the floor gave one last huge shudder before stilling. The fearlings had obviously realized there was no point in trying. Kozmotis gave the image of his daughter another longing look and then let it swing back into place, hidden among the folds of his robes. He walked to his chair in the center of the room and sank into it. He closed his eyes, imagining that he could hear his child's bright, clear voice calling to him.

"Papa," she cried."Papa!"

Kozmotis' eyes snapped open. He was not just imagining her voice- he was actually hearing it! For a moment he was filled with joy. She had been able to come visit him! But that swoop of happiness was quickly replaced by dread when he realized where her voice was coming from: the dungeons.

"Papa!"he heard her scream again, and Kozmotis could detect the terror in her tone. In one fluid motion he was rising from his chair and all but flying across the grand hall and through the iron door at the far end. With panic-fueled strength he threw it open and it slammed against the wall. He raced down the rough stone steps into the dark, damp dungeon where the shadows moved as independent beings. He skidded to a halt just before the barred black door that led to the cell where all the fearlings were contained.

"Seraphina!" he yelled in a fearsome bellow. "Seraphina!"

"Papa!" she screamed.

"Hold on, darling!" he called to her, fumbling with the key that he kept on his chain alongside the locket. He was not thinking clearly enough to unlatch it from his neck and so he simply yanked it off, breaking the fine chain with little effort. He shoved the key into a keyhole that had not been there a moment ago and pressed his hand up against the door, closing his eyes and hurriedly muttering words so ancient only he knew what they meant. The spot where his hand touched the door glowed with a soft white light, and as he spoke the light spread and covered the entire door.

Kozmotis stepped back and shielded his eyes as the light flared as bright as the sun, dissolving the door into nothing. Even as his vision was still returning he rushed into the center of the room, calling his daughter's name. But as everything cleared he instantly knew he had made a horrible mistake.

Most of the fearlings had amassed themselves into one solid wave of blackness made up of creatures that had no right to exist outside of nightmares. But one fearling stood out in front of the rest, and the shape it had chosen chilled him to the core. It was his daughter, a shadowy version with hair made of black snakes and eyes dark as storm clouds. With a twisted, cruel smile the fearling opened its mouth.

"Papa," it said in his daughter's voice.

And then, all at once, the fearlings moved as one solid mass and before he could react they were upon him. Kozmotis was surrounded by the shadows, the creatures made of fear. They wrapped themselves around him, pouring their very essence into him, through his skin, his eyes, his mouth, his ears. He screamed as he felt the shadows changing him. They blackened his heart, and then his mind, and then his very soul. He fought with every ounce of his will, but in the end it was not enough. The locket he clutched fell from his fingers as Kozmotis succumbed to the darkness and fell into a sleep plagued with every nightmare that had ever existed.

Sometime later he awoke and found he was lying with his face against the cool stone floor. Slowly he pushed himself up and stared at his hands and arms. What had once been darkly tanned skin was now an unhealthy shade of gray. His golden robes were now black as night. He looked up and found himself staring straight into the face of a fearling that had taken the shape of a horse: a nightmare. He saw himself reflected in its eyes. His face was the same shade of gray as the rest of him and his once blue eyes were now gray- tinged amber, the irises like solar eclipses.

The nightmare stepped back as he rose to his feet. He swayed a bit as he felt the power of thousands of fearlings at the edge of his consciousness, waiting and watching. He walked out of the prison room in a daze and made his way back up to the grand hall. After the darkness of the dungeon the colors stunned him, and for a moment he simply stood there and stared. But then his gaze shifted to the main door as it burst open and a messenger spirit burst through.

"Kozmotis, I have a m-" the messenger stopped suddenly when he caught sight of him and the fearlings that flanked him.

His hazy thoughts suddenly snapped into focus as he _felt_ the fear come off the spirit. He tasted and smelled it on the air, the coppery smell of blood and the sharp, tangy, taste of pomegranate. Things that should not have gone well together, that should not have been pleasurable. But somehow they did, and they were. It filled him with a surge of strength. As the spirit turned to flee with wide, frightened eyes he sped over to him with speed he had not thought possible and caught him by the front of his shirt, lifting him off the ground so they were face to face.

"You are a messenger, are you not?" he asked smoothly, totally in control.

The spirit nodded quickly, unable to tear his eyes from the amber ones that were just inches away.

"Then deliver this message to the world: Kozmotis Pitchiner is no more." He threw the messenger roughly to the ground where he scrambled backward, still staring with wide eyes. Then, with a smile that looked positively evil, he said, "The name's Pitch Black now."

The spirit turned and sprinted out the doors. Pitch looked around distastefully at the grand palace of gold before he followed. He had no reason to stay here now.

After all, there was fear to be wrought.

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**All I know about Pitch's back story is what I've read in the wiki and other people's stories. I haven't read the books, and I took the name of Pitch's daughter from another fanfic. I've made most of the details of this one up, so if anything is incorrect that's why. Just let me know and I'll fix it.**


	5. Afterparty

**I think it's about time the rest of the Guardians made an entrance, don't you? I've kind of been avoiding this on purpose- I'm not quite as in tune with the rest of them as I am with Jack. But I'll give it a shot.**

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The atmosphere inside the North Pole was festive when the sleigh arrived. The yetis had already received news of the victory against Pitch and had put all preparation for Christmas on hold to arrange a giant party. They rushed in every direction as Jack jumped out of the sleigh, laughing at a joke North had just told. The other Guardians piled out as well, and together the five of them entered the warm air of the Pole.

"Well, Guardians," North said, "I must say: Well done! Another successful battle, another couple Pitch-free centuries!"

"You can say that again, mate," Bunny said.

Jack turned to face North. "You say that like you expect him to come back."

"Oh yes, he will be back, that much you can be sure of, Jack," North responded cheerily, grabbing a goblet of eggnog from a passing elf and downing it in one gulp.

"It's like Pitch said," Bunny said. "You can't kill fear, as much as we hate to admit it. It's bloody stubborn that way."

"This wasn't the first time we've had to defeat him," Tooth broke in. "And it won't be the last."

"Well that's a bit of a killjoy," Jack said.

"Ah, buck up, mate," Bunny said. "It's no big deal, really. One of these days he'll realize there's no point in trying. He's no match for us. Especially now that we've got you, eh?" he nudged him with his shoulder and Jack smiled, a real, happy smile.

"I must admit I was worried for a moment there," North said. "Is good thing you came back in the nick of time, Sandy."

Jack let out a low whistle, remembering the close call. "Yeah Sandy, if you had been even one second later I would have been shish-kabob. I owe you one."

Sandy shook his head, indicating that Jack didn't owe him anything.

"Enough talk," North said suddenly. "It is time for the feast!"

"That's what I'm talking about," Bunny said eagerly. "You got any carrot cake, mate?"

"Of course!" North boomed. "And plenty of cookies too!" He started to walk off and Bunny followed.

Tooth made a noise of disdain before flying after them. "Cookies," she said distastefully. "Absolutely _exploding _with sugar. Do you know what that does to your teeth?"

Jack trailed after them but wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy admiring the interior of the Pole. He had been inside it before, of course, but that had been in the middle of the Pitch crisis. And the middle of a war was not exactly the best time for sightseeing. It was beautiful. The details and the design were spectacular, the domed ceilings and balconies of dizzying heights true feats of engineering. The magic of the toys as they whizzed past and floated by only added to the effect. He was so absorbed in everything that he nearly walked past the entrance to the dining hall until Sandy caught his arm and motioned for him to go through. He did, and when he saw what was on the table he could do nothing but stare.

It seemed like every food imaginable was piled on the enormous oak table; he saw turkeys and hams and a whole pig complete with an apple in its mouth, a platter piled high with apples, oranges, pears, bananas, and many other fruits including some he could not name, plates heaped with cookies and pastries, and so much more. He swore he could hear the wood groan under the weight. But the centerpiece was the thing that really caught Jack's eye: a gigantic five-tiered cake.

North saw him staring. "You like it?" he asked. "Phil is much better baker than he looks."

The yeti stood off to the side, looking as if he was deciding to take that as a compliment or not.

North gestured toward the cake before Jack could answer. "Each tier is for one Guardian," he explained. He pointed to the bottom one, the biggest one with elaborate red and green piping and entire candy canes placed in the icing. "That is mine. It is chocolate cake with peppermint icing." The next one up was simpler, pure grass green with a few sugar flowers and chocolate eggs. "Bunny's, obviously. Carrot cake and buttercream icing." The third tier was yellow with different images stenciled on in shimmery gold: dinosaurs, dolphins, unicorns, airplanes, mermaids, dragons, fairies, and many more. "That one is for Sandy. Is made of yellow cake and covered in royal icing." The next one up was purple with alternating designs of wings and teeth. "Walnut cake and sugar free icing- not a speck of sugar in the whole thing, Tooth, I swear!" And, finally on the very top, was a small light blue cake dusted with powdered sugar and decorated with painstakingly detailed snowflakes. "Yours," North stated simply. "We did not know what you liked, so we used angel food cake and covered it with a tinted glaze. Is good, no?"

For a moment North looked nervous as Jack looked up at the cake, his expression unreadable. But then his face split into an infectious smile. "It's perfect, North."

"Hey!" came Bunny's voice from the other side of the mountain of food. "Are we eating or not?"

"Of course, my friend!" North replied. "Come, Jack."

They made their way to the far end of the table, each of the five taking a seat. Jack looked at all the food again, and then asked incredulously to no one in particular, "Are we really going to eat all this?"

"Probably not," North admitted. "But we can certainly try!"

Four hours, four platters of cookies, five cakes, one ham, two bowls of fruit, seven exotic dishes, and thirty seven glasses of eggnog later North and Bunny were singing Christmas carols very loudly and off-key, Tooth was asleep with her head on her plate, Sandy was playing charades with the elves, and Jack was leaning back comfortably in his chair, his staff across his lap. He smiled as he listened to Bunny and North transition from singing to conversation.

"Y'know North," Bunny said mournfully as he clapped North on the shoulder, "I've been so bloody awful to you about the whole 'Easter is better than Christmas thing'. I'm so-" he hiccupped-"so sorry!"

"No, Bunny," North replied gravely, swaying slightly in his seat. "It is I who has wronged you. But after today, after seeing you as a helpless fluffy bunny, I swear on my favorite hat I shall never say such things again!"

Bunny did not seem to mind being called helpless, or maybe he just didn't realize what North had said. In any case, the two were suddenly hugging each other tightly, sobbing and apologizing. But, somehow, the sobs evolved into laughter and before Jack knew it they were both practically collapsing with giggles.

Jack laughed. This would be excellent leverage later.

There was a thud and when Jack looked over he saw Bunny snoring on the ground before the fireplace. North was looking more subdued now, although his cheeks were still ruddy.

Jack looked back up at the ceiling and yawned. He closed his eyes and was just starting to drift off when he suddenly heard North's voice.

"Jack!" he bellowed.

Jack was up in an instant, his staff raised in a defensive position and his head on a swivel. Tooth jerked up with a small shriek, a piece of food stuck to her cheek. Sandy spun around quickly, sand whips in his hand, and Bunny, even though he was still groggy, was on his feet with a boomerang in each hand. They all looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary other than Phil holding an elf like a teddy bear while he slept.

Jack looked back at North, confused. "What is it, North? The way you yelled, I thought there was a nightmare sneaking up on me or something-"

North bustled past him and out the door. "I have something to show you," he said.

Jack dropped his staff to his side and followed. Behind him he heard the other Guardians trailing after, Tooth asking what just happened.

"I d'know," he heard Bunny's slightly slurred voice. "I was jus' takin a nap and I heard North yellin like he's got a pack a dingoes on his tail!"

They followed North to the console before the giant globe that was now, thankfully, covered in millions of tiny lights. He stood before the mural on the floor with the G in the middle surrounded by an image of each of the Guardians. Before there had been four images arranged in a four-pointed star, but now there were five. One of them held North's image inside a square. In it he was wielding his swords with a wild gesture. Bunny's image held a boomerang in each hand; he was inside a triangle. Tooth was inside a diamond shape as she reached towards the stars that shimmered in the mural's sky. Sandy was in a circle; he held his arms out in a position of wisdom and kindness. North pointed to the remaining image: a hexagon contained Jack's figure, frozen in time as he brandished his staff.

"Just in case you had any doubts, Jack, that you were truly one of us now," North said.

Jack quickly looked up at North's blue eyes, which were surprisingly clear. Perhaps he was more observant than Jack had thought.

"You're on the mural. It doesn't get much more official than that," Tooth said proudly.

Sandy nodded in agreement, and as did Bunny.

Jack looked down at the mural for a moment, wondering whether or not he should tell them what he was thinking. After a brief inner struggle he decided that they would probably not even remember this in the morning and went for it.

"It's not going to be as easy as just flipping a switch, you know that, don't you?" he said, still not looking up. "I'm just- I'm not used to having people actually care, you know? Three hundred years is a long time to be alone. So you'll understand if I'm… a little cautious. But I am going to try, I really am"

Before he knew what was happening he was being crushed by an enormous hug from all sides. Nobody said anything, and for a moment the five Guardians just stood there in a moment of embrace.

But then they broke apart, North bellowing, "More eggnog!" The other four followed eagerly, and Jack couldn't help but smile again.

Yeah, they definitely wouldn't remember this in the morning.

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**Wow that one was longer than I expected. Oh, and thanks to my reviewers! I love you all so much (but not in a creepy way)!**

**SeaTheShadows: You will always be known as my first reviewer! And I'm looking forward to getting that partner-fic done.**

**Blood-red Moonlight: Thank you! To be honest I was a little worried to tell people this was my first. I thought it might scare them off, but I'm glad it didn't!**

**Dreamcreator: I made you cry?! That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me! And I wrote down your idea and it will very likely be used :)**

**IAmBehindYou: I'll try to make it happen, but 80 is awfully far away.**

**Rynn Wolfe: Yay! A loyal reviewer! And I tried to do some Bunnymund in this one. I don't know if I like how he turned out, but I did try.**

**Em: Thanks :)**


	6. 2000

**Just a short little one because I don't have much time for writing today. Set before the movie.**

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Jack knew he must be crazy to do this. Crazy and stupid. It was extremely dangerous, even for an immortal like him. And yet, as he looked down at the jubilant crowd below, he couldn't help but feel excited for what he was about to do.

He looked out over the entire city of Paris; the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower was spectacular. Not the observation deck, but the very top. Down below he could hear the crowd singing and shouting in anticipation, but for a moment it was drowned out by the sound of the wind in his ears. The wind was curious, for it could sense Jack's excitement and slight trepidation. It asked him in its whispering language what was going on, but before Jack could answer the bottom of the Eiffel Tower lit up with crackling and exploding sparklers and the crowd roared anew. His heart skipped a beat; it was almost time.

He had been hearing people all around the globe talking about this night for months. It was a new millennium, and every country was going to do something special to celebrate it. The Parisians were especially proud of what they had thought up. They were turning their famous landmark into a tower of fire, and every eye around the world would be watching it as midnight struck. They were watching it now, thousands of people he could see and many, many more that he could not. They all had their eyes trained on the Tower and, although they did not know it, on him.

The first of the fireworks had set off a chain reaction, and slowly but surely the trail of explosions was climbing. Two minutes were left. Jack smiled down on the city. Tonight he was going to be part of the celebration, part of the beauty that would leave millions of mouths hanging open. The fireworks were nearly to the top now, and from the countdown going down below he knew he had about thirty seconds. He straightened from his crouched position and balanced on his toes, holding his breath alongside the rest of the world.

"_Trois_!" the crowd shouted. "_Deux! Un!"_

And then the Eiffel Tower exploded, sending fireworks shooting straight out, starting from the bottom and traveling within seconds towards the top in a ripple effect. Jack jumped off the top of the Tower and dived straight down, surrounded by fireworks on every side. The noise was deafening; the crowd was screaming, the fireworks were exploding, the wind was rushing in his ears. The ground grew closer, closer, closer- and then the wind caught him and he zoomed straight up just as more fireworks were sent shooting into the sky. He felt the wave of heat as they exploded behind him, and he saw the crowd pointing and laughing and yelling. He twirled and spun through the air and wove through the searing explosions in the sky, even sending out bursts of ice from his staff to add to the breathtaking display.

In that moment it did not matter that his show was not seen. As he looked down at all the upturned faces that shone with delight and awe, he could believe that those smiles were for him. He could believe that they were pointing at his daredevil maneuvers. He could believe that their screams were screams of adoration for him. He could believe that _they_ believed.

With a smile he bowed in midair, calling "Thank you! Thank you! _Merci!_"

As if in response, the crowd roared in unison, "_Bonne année!_"

The fireworks continued in an amazing display of color, but Jack decided it was time to go. Paris was not the only city celebrating the arrival of the New Year, after all. And he didn't intend to miss a thing.

* * *

**This one was inspired by what Paris did to celebrate New Years in 2000. You should go see the video, it's actually really amazing. For all my reviewers, know that all your ideas have been noted and that every time I read your reviews they totally brighten my day! Just a fair warning, I'm going to be very busy this next week so it's possible that updates may be scarce. But don't worry, I'll get something in! **


	7. A Dance With a Fairy

**I tried some fluff in this one.**

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Tooth knew Jack was there even before he made himself known. His trademark cold wind blew through the usually tropical Tooth Palace, as effective as royal trumpeters announcing the arrival of a king. She heard the excited twittering of her mini fairies and his familiar laugh, and went out to meet him. He was surrounded by her fairies who she could tell were barely restraining themselves as he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth- the pinnacle of temptation. Baby Tooth, who had formed a particularly close friendship with him ever since the Pitch crisis, twittered to him affectionately before settling in his fluffy white hair.

The mini fairies parted to let her through as she approached. "Hello Jack!" she said cheerily. "What brings you here?"

He turned his stunning smile on her. "Hey Tooth! I was just coming to visit. Everyone is busy, you know, and I just thought I would see if you were."

She was, but he didn't need to know that. "Oh, I have plenty of time."

He opened his mouth to say something, but just then a wave of sound, of music and talking and laughter, came from the direction of the place where she stored the teeth. Jack spun around, looking for the source.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's cleaning day," she replied.

He looked confused. "Cleaning day?"

"Yes. Come on, I'll show you."

She flew off towards the tooth storage and he followed. When they arrived they saw many little fairies flying about holding armfuls of tooth boxes. They set them down on the ground in neat rows, thousands and thousands of boxes.

She turned to face Jack, who had a perplexed expression on his face. "When people die, their memories are automatically sent out to them during their final moments," she began to explain. "The term 'life flashing before your eyes' comes from that. Once that happens, their memory box disappears, making room for new ones. Sometimes, though, people die too suddenly and unexpectedly for this to happen. Their memories stay locked in the boxes, having no one to go back to."

He turned and looked at the endless rows with new understanding. "So… these are all people who died before their time."

"Yes, I guess you could say that. Every hundred years or so we take all of these unclaimed memories and release them; since their owners have passed on they simply play out here." She gestured to one of the fairies who was opening a tooth box. It flared with light and formed a moving image in the middle of the air that showed the memories that were contained. It was not unlike one of North's portals: a window into another world.

They moved slowly down the row, taking in bits and pieces of the memories. Jack stopped in front of a memory that was filled with figures in colorful gowns twirling about to lively music.

"This looks familiar," he said. "Whose memory is this?"

Tooth glanced down at the portrait on the box of a little girl with long reddish-brown hair and a large tiara. "Anastasia Romanov."

Recognition dawned in Jack's eyes. "Romanov. Yes, I definitely recognize this memory. I was there. It was the Romanov family's last ball before the tsar was forced to step down." He reached out as if to touch the shimmering image. "It was the middle of December, a perfect night for a little snow. I went to check out all the commotion coming from the Romanov palace, and when I saw that there was a party happening I decided to stick around. The tsar's wife and four daughters were dressed in their finest, and Tsar Nicholas himself and his son looked like the picture of royalty. It was so much fun that night; it couldn't have been a better final ball." The memory seemed to respond to Jack's story, changing to show the royal family laughing and dancing through the crowd.

"But, if Anastasia's memories are here among the unclaimed… what happened to her?" Tooth had to ask.

Jack's face darkened as he looked at her. "The world," he said simply, "Is not kind to the innocent."

Just then the music coming from the memory changed from a lively dance to a slower waltz. Jack turned back to the memory and his expression lightened. "I remember this one! I think the steps were like this…" He started to dance with an invisible partner, synchronized with the dancers in the memory. After a few steps he faced her and held out his hand. "Wanna dance?"

Tooth felt her face grow a little warm and she tried to stop her feathers from fluffing up. "Oh, I don't know, Jack… I've never waltzed before…"

He cocked his head imploringly. "Oh, come on, Tooth."

She fumbled out a few more feeble excuses but took his hand anyway, ignoring the chill that went through her at the contact. Within moments they were spinning and twirling together. A couple times Tooth messed up and interrupted the flowing movement. She gave a few flustered apologies but Jack just laughed it off, and by the time the song was halfway through she had gotten the hang of it.

Tooth didn't even notice when they rose off the ground and started waltzing in midair; she was too entranced by Jack's unexpected grace, his mesmerizing smile, and his big blue eyes. The song ended, and the memory along with it. Anastasia Romanov's memory box glowed with a soft light, and with the sound of a lingering laugh it was gone. Tooth looked down and was surprised to see that they were hovering above the rows of memory boxes and that many of her fairies had gathered in a crowd to watch the dance. Tooth was glad that Jack could not understand their words; some of the things they were saying were making her blush.

Baby Tooth poked her head out of Jack's hair and winked at Tooth. She had forgotten she was there, and apparently Jack had too.

"Oh hey, Baby Tooth," he said. "Forgot you were up there. Do you like dancing too?"

She nodded and twittered away, spinning in circles in the air until she got dizzy and went down to join her sisters. Jack laughed and flew over to an outcropping of rock where he had a view of all the memories playing out. Tooth settled down next to him to watch.

"I never knew you were such a good dancer," she said.

He shrugged, still looking straight ahead. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"Yes I suppose that's true," she admitted. He turned his head slightly and caught her eye. She smiled and he returned it.

"But I'd like to change that," she said.

* * *

**I really shouldn't write references to things in history I know next to nothing about. Oh well. Personally, I think that the extent of Tooth and Jack's romantic relationship is just a mild crush. For now, anyway.**


	8. The Taste of Fear

**I was going to write some Jack and Bunny fluff today but I just watched the movie again and _ohmergawd Jude Law's voice it gets me every time!_**** So you get this instead. Set during the movie.**

* * *

The sky battle raged below Pitch as he set his sights on the golden figure in the eye of the storm that was his nightmares. He formed an arrow of nightmare sand and pulled it taut, and for a moment he contemplated his feelings as he aimed for the open target that was the Sandman's back.

He felt victorious, that was for sure. The other Guardians and the Frost boy were too far away to stop him this time, and Sandman himself was oblivious. He felt satisfied, too. It was about time he got his opposite back for all the times he had been defeated in the past, whether it was a full scale war or as simple as chasing him out from under a child's bed. There was another feeling there, too; Pitch was curious.

Every person's fear tasted different, as unique as a fingerprint. There was always the smell of blood; that never changed. But the taste that accompanied it was never the same. He had tasted the other Guardians' fear; North's was like spiced eggnog, the rabbit's like the finest dark chocolate, the fairy's like fresh spearmint toothpaste. He had tasted Frost's too, like the needles of an evergreen pine. But he had never tasted Sandman's fear, though it was not for lack of trying. The Guardian of Dreams was simply never afraid. But that was about to change.

Pitch released the arrow, and it hit its target just as he knew it would. The golden man stiffened, and though he was turned away Pitch could imagine his eyes widening in shock. Down below Pitch heard an agonized scream of, "NO!" But he was too caught up in the moment to care. He laughed as Sandman slowly turned to face him, horror plain on his face. And he felt it; the first little trickle of fear.

"Don't fight the fear, little man," he jeered.

And, as the dark stain spread across Sandman's back, his fear grew. Pitch laughed and took a deep breath, and was surprised at what he experienced. There was the coppery scent of blood, sure enough, and the taste- the taste was like nothing else Pitch had ever encountered and it took a moment for him to realize what it was.

Lightning. The tingly taste of the air before a storm, of electricity crackling through the atmosphere. Of ozone and heat and burning. It was exhilarating, and it made Pitch's whole body tingle as if he really was being shocked. Sandman stumbled, falling to his knees as the darkness took him over like a cancerous disease.

"I'd say sweet dreams," Pitch said softly, just loud enough for the Master of Dreams to hear him. "But there aren't any left."

With a feeling of triumph Pitch watched as black continued to overtake gold, ignoring the shouts from below. He waited for the final, strongest wave of fear that always came right before death. But then, instead of collapsing, Sandman straightened defiantly and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes as the darkness consumed him, and instead of his fear growing stronger it diminished and vanished; the Sandman had accepted what was happening. Then, with a final flash of gold, he was gone.

Pitch was put off at being denied the final potent wave of fear, but as he looked down to see Frost racing up to meet him he put it out of his mind. He had other nuisances to deal with right now. With a grand gesture of his arms the nightmares amassed into one giant wave and roared down towards the winter spirit, and Pitch smirked as the boy's small form fell back against the thousands of nightmares that accosted him.

But then he winced as, with a sound not unlike a sonic boom, flashes of blue light suddenly flared brightly and raced through his nightmares' ranks, crystallizing them and turning them to ice. Before he could react the ice exploded and he was sent flying down to earth. He crashed among the trees in the woods, and when he stood and looked up at the sky he could see the Guardians and their new ally disappearing through a portal. He chuckled as snow and ice fell all around him; Frost certainly had a flair for the dramatics.

"Finally," he said to himself. "Somebody who knows how to have a little fun!"

He set off towards his lair with a twisted smile in his face. The Guardians may have won the battle, but he was winning the war. And besides, he had gotten what he had come for: Sandman was dead. And, best of all, he had finally, _finally _gotten a taste of his fear.

* * *

**This took me forever to write because my hand hurts because I accidentally cut myself on a pineapple while I was putting away a knife. Yes I know, it's all very ironic. But seriously, those pineapple stems are spiky! And the whole taste of fear thing is my own personal headcanon, just so you know.**


	9. Rainbow Snowflakes

**Sorry it's been a little while you guys, but this pesky little thing called reality hit me smack in the face. Not to mention my teachers seem to be trying to cram a whole curriculum's worth of homework into the span of two weeks. This one is probably my personal favorite so far, mostly because I adore Jack and Bunny.**

* * *

With a gentle swoop of his paintbrush, E. Aster Bunnymund finished painting a delicate curl on the egg he was holding. He set the brush back into a jar of paint and turned the egg around, carefully inspecting it while avoiding smearing the fresh paint. The design was one of intertwining vines, flowering with buds of every color. Frowning, he picked up the brush again to touch up a tiny detail that no one but he would have noticed. Satisfied, he set down the egg and it trotted off to be dried and stored for Easter.

The eggs were perfectly capable of painting themselves with a trip through the Rainbow Meadow, but Bunny liked to sit down and paint them himself as often as he could. It calmed him down in times of stress, and it reminded him of why he had become the Easter Bunny in the first place. Painting the eggs himself made his job feel more personal, and as he colored each one with bright designs he always smiled at the thought of the expression that would adorn the face of whatever child found it. The ones he did himself were infinitely more detailed and rare, treasures among the rest. But he knew that every egg, whether it was done personally or not, was a precious gift and sign of hope.

He had just picked up another egg and was pondering what design to use when he heard the shouts. His ears perked up and he listened closer; they seemed to be coming from the direction of the Rainbow River. It was too far away for him to hear the words, but he recognized the voice: Jack's voice. Bunny immediately set down the blank egg and set off; Jack's voice in his Warren was usually not a good thing.

Oh sure, he and Jack got along fine. They had to; they were fellow Guardians and if they didn't North would force a group hug. And hugging Jack was not exactly high on his list of things he enjoyed. It was immensely awkward, and the kid was always freezing. It wasn't that he didn't like the winter spirit; in fact he would be lying if he denied having an almost brotherly affection for him. But he was the bringer of winter and Bunny much preferred spring, so there was naturally going to be some rivalry there. And he was still a little frosty about the Blizzard of '68. Pun intended.

Not to mention Jack was extremely mischievous and loved pulling pranks, although this tendency seemed only to extend as far as Bunny, humans, and North's yetis. His pranks at the Pole usually involved sugar and elves, which was not a good combination. With humans it was stuff like icy sidewalks, bitterly cold winds, and snowballs that came out of nowhere. Bunny was the butt of most of the jokes, though. He would often arrive back at the Warren to find his golems frozen to the ground or half the eggs painted blue. He was not blind however; he noticed that whatever Jack did, it was never any permanent harm that might mess up Bunny's holiday or anyone else's. The kid might be a right pain in the neck, but he was not malicious.

Nonetheless, the sound of Jack yelling triggered warning bells and Bunny was not about to let it go uninvestigated. He sped up and within a moment emerged from the cherry blossom trees on the banks of the Rainbow River. On the opposite side, one of the golems had Jack by the ankle and was dangling him over the swirling colors. He was yelling at the golem to put him down and was struggling to reach his staff, which was lying on the ground just out of his grasp. The corners of Bunny's mouth twitched up at the sight, and it was then that Jack caught sight of him.

"Bunny!" he called indignantly. "Tell it to let me go!"

"Poor choice of words, mate," Bunny replied with a chuckle.

Jack's eyes widened. "Bunny, no! I can't swim-" But then the golem released him, and he fell headfirst into the river. He thrashed about, churning up the paint into a frothy mess.

Bunny, however, had caught his words. He reached out and grabbed Jack, yanking him out and throwing him to the grass. Jack rolled from his back onto his hands and knees, coughing and spitting out multicolored paint. Bunny looked at his face, and for a moment the pooka's amused smirk disappeared with a spasm of surprise as he saw in Jack's eyes not amusement or anger or annoyance, but wild, untamed fear. But then it was gone as a door seemed to close over his eyes and he composed himself. He stood up and glared at Bunny, and his concern was momentarily forgotten as he got a good look at Jack and bent double with sudden laughter.

"What?" Jack snapped.

"You- you look like a rainbow sprite!" he gasped around his laughter.

It was true. Jack's snow white hair and pale skin had been the perfect canvas for the paint, and every part of him was covered in swirls of color, red and yellow and blue and green and every other hue of the rainbow. He looked down at himself and gasped.

"Oh, crap," he said eloquently.

He took off his (not so) blue hoodie, revealing a plain white tee underneath that had somehow remained so. He began trying to wring the color out of the hoodie, but to no avail.

"Doesn't this stuff come out?" he asked.

"Oh, sure," Bunny replied with a smile. "In a few weeks or so."

"A few- what!" Jack's voice was fringing on panic now. "Bunny!"

"Sorry, mate." Bunny replied, not sounding regretful in the least. "Can't have the paint washing off the eggs in the rain, can I?" Jack was still glaring at him, and Bunny raised an eyebrow. "You're not really mad, are you?"

Jack held the stare for another second before sighing and dropping his gaze to the multicolored hoodie in his hand. "No." But then he looked up again with a devious smile. "But that doesn't mean I won't want payback."

Bunny took a step back. "Don't even think about-" Before he could go further, Jack jumped across the narrow river, grabbed his staff, and crossed back in a blur of movement. He froze the grass underneath Bunny's feet into ice and, before he could react, gave him a push that caused him to slip and slide straight into the Rainbow River.

Bunny suddenly found himself in the situation Jack had been in just a moment before, splashing and spluttering and sending drops of paint flying everywhere. The difference, however, was that he could swim, and within moments he had clambered back onto the banks of the river. He stood up, drawing himself to his full height, trying to be intimidating despite the fact that he looked like a walking rainbow and Jack was too busy laughing at him to notice his attempts.

"You _probably _shouldn't have done that," he said.

Jack's laughter subsided to a smirk as he looked Bunny straight in the eyes. He magically formed a snowball in his hand and dipped it into the river, dyeing it with bright colors. "Bring it on, Cottontail," he challenged.

Ten minutes later the two of them were covered in grass and rapidly melting, rainbow-tinted snow. They called a truce and sat beneath a blossoming tree, trying to dry themselves off and wipe away some of the paint. Their attempts yielded no results, for they still looked as if they had gotten into a fight with the Leprechaun.

"You know, North's monthly party is in a couple of days," Jack said.

"Yep," Bunny replied.

"It would be pretty embarrassing to show up looking like this, don't you think?"

"Absolutely."

"I think I might be busy that night. Got lots to do, you know?"

"Yeah, me too."

With that they fell into a comfortable silence as they continued their futile attempts. Something was nagging at the back of Bunny's mind, and after a minute or two he voiced it.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" His voice came out muffled as he slipped his hoodie back on over his head.

"Back there, when I pulled you out of the river… you had this look in your eyes, like you were afraid. Like, truly afraid."

Jack's expression closed off and something dark flashed in his eyes. "Did I?" he said casually.

"Yeah, mate. You did. And you had no reason to. I was right there; you knew I woulda helped you out. And that river isn't even very deep."

He shrugged. "I guess I just panicked."

"No mate. That wasn't just plain panic. You were reliving something, weren't you?"

Jack stood up very abruptly, slightly startling Bunny. "You know, I should probably get going. I told Jamie I would come see him today. He's probably expecting me."

Bunny knew that was a lie, but before he could say so Jack summoned the wind and flew off too quickly for him to follow. Bunny heaved a sigh and stood up, slowly making his way back towards his egg painting spot. He picked up the egg he had abandoned not long before, his mind still back under the tree. Jack was hiding something; that much was obvious. But Bunny didn't know if he should press the subject or just let it lie. There was a possibility that Jack would tell him on his own, but the chances were small. For the first time Bunny wondered if maybe there was a whole lot more to the winter spirit than his foolish jokes and freely given smiles let on.

Letting that sink in, Bunny dipped his brush into a jar of paint and placed the tip on the egg. After a second an idea came to him, and with deft movements not thought possible for someone with paws in place of hands, began painting. After a time he set down the egg and watched it walk off, its design of rainbow snowflakes glinting in the sunlight.

* * *

**Yes, I know that the Easter Golems in the movie don't have arms. But let's just let it go, shall we?**


	10. Guardian Angel

**I know this is way overdue and it's rather short besides, but I have two words for you: finals week. Hopefully now that I'm on summer break I will be able to update more quickly. This one has slight references to Tooth's back story.**

* * *

The moonlight shone through the windows of the orphanage. It reflected off the feathers and gently humming wings of Toothiana, making her seem to glow. She looked much like a guardian angel as she hovered over the bed of one of the children; and, in a way, that's exactly what she was. She held in her hand a single piece of paper, and she was reading to herself the words that were scrawled across it in childish handwriting.

_Dear Tooth Fairy, _

_My name is Sarah, but you can call me Snow. All the other kids do. It's because of my hair, and probably my skin too. I don't mind though. In fact I like it better because Sarah is too common a name anyway. I lost my tooth in a fight with Carey. I know I shouldn't have done it because she's much bigger than me, but she made me mad. She said no one would ever want me because of how I look, and that my eyes would always scare them off. But I know that's not true. My parents loved me before the accident. They always told me I was pretty. But they're gone now, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life here. So I'm asking you for some money for my tooth. I'm saving up to buy some hair dye and contacts. Maybe some spray on tan, too. Carey says it's stupid to write to you. She said you're not real. But what does she know? She already lost all her teeth. But I know you'll follow through. You always do._

_Love, Snow_

Tooth lowered the paper and looked at the little girl below her. She was about ten years old and fast asleep. Her long white hair fell in her pale face, and Tooth knew if she opened her eyes she would see red irises. The girl was an albino.

Tooth felt for her; she reminded her of herself, long ago. The girl's parents were gone, and she was ostracized and singled out because she was different. Tooth knew how that felt. She reached down and brushed some of the girl's hair out of her face. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, showing no sign of the sadness and worry that surely followed her around in life. Her lips held the trace of a smile, and Tooth thought she looked like the kind of person who simply had to walk into a room to brighten it.

Tooth reached under the girl's pillow and pulled out what she had come for. It was a perfect bottom right incisor, clean and white. She admired it for a moment before slipping it into her pouch, and then she slipped a coin back under the pillow to replace it. She gave the girl another fond look before she flew to the window. She was about to go out it when she stopped and looked back.

Tooth thought the girl was beautiful. Her features were delicate, and her hair was simply lovely. But the girl didn't see what Tooth saw; she saw only something that separated her from everyone else, something that stood in the way of her happiness. Tooth knew that was not true, and she wanted the girl to know it as well.

She hesitated; what she was about to do was strictly against protocol. But really, who didn't break protocol every now and then? She took out a piece of paper and a pencil from her pouch and wrote in flowing script:

_Dear Snow,_

_I've left you some money, of course, because your tooth is absolutely gorgeous. It is your money and you can do with it what you will, but there is something I wish to tell you. It is important to find the people in your life that make you happy. I have found mine, and when you find yours they will love you for who you are. You don't have to change yourself to please somebody else; it never works anyway. I think your heart is as strong and as beautiful as your teeth._

_With Love, the Tooth Fairy_

_P.S. Personally, I think your hair is the best. _

Tooth folded up the note and placed it under the pillow. Then, she gently reached down and touched the girl's face. She smiled slightly in her sleep and leaned into her hand, and for a moment Tooth simply enjoyed the moment. But then she pulled away and flew out the open window into the night. The only sign that she had ever been there was a solitary feather that floated down to the windowsill. But then that, too, was gone in a gust of wind.

* * *

**I dunno about you but I don't really like how that one turned out. Oh well. The next four are each going to be centered on one of the Guardians as well, probably will also have references to their back stories. I don't really know Bunny's story, though. I know that it was really sad and it somehow left him the last of his kind, but since I haven't read the books and they're not at my library I don't know the details. All I've got is the wiki, so can someone maybe tell me what happened with him? **


	11. One Less Dream

**As promised, centered on one of the Guardians.**

* * *

No one quite understood Sanderson Mansnoozie. He was just one of those spirits that did not look very imposing but had an aura of power and knowledge about him all the same. It was hard to tell what went on in his head; it wasn't like he could tell anyone. Pictures made of sand could only get you so far, and sometimes Sandy just got tired of living each day like a game of charades. Sandy often liked to be alone with his thoughts. The best time for this was his nightly ritual of delivering dreams.

Many people thought that Sandy made the dreams that were given each night. In a way they were right, yet in another way they were wrong. Sandy made the dreamsand; he made the magic. But he did not make the dreams. Dreams were not something you could mass produce on a production line. No, everyone's dreams were different. His sand was not unlike a key; it held the potential of opening a door, but first it needed a door to open. Without someone to dream his dreams, that's all his sand was: an unused key. And that was what it would remain until a person made contact with it.

The magic of his dreamsand was that it could tap into the hidden feelings of the dreamer: their buried emotions, their greatest joys, the deepest desires of their heart. Every true dream had a piece of the person's soul in it, and that is what made it so special and so powerful. If you shared in someone's true dream, you were more intimately and profoundly connected to that person than anyone else in the world.

This was why the Sandman was such a critical member of the Guardians. Over time he had witnessed millions upon millions of true dreams, and even if the dreamers didn't know it that made him deeply rooted within them. Sandy's story was not as well told as North's or Tooth's or Bunny's; he did not have as many conscious believers. But because of the power of true dreams, anyone who had ever had one believed in Sandy whether they knew it or not. So it was understandable when so many lights had gone out on the globe after his death. It was like losing your best friend, the one who knew more about you than anyone else. Of course, only the children could actually see him, since as people grew older they learned to reject things that could not be explained, even if in their hearts they knew them to be true.

All this went through the Sandman's head as he floated high above the world on his cloud of sand, sending out golden strands in all directions. He watched them weave through the sky, illuminating the black canopy and outshining the stars. Pride and happiness swelled within him; no matter how many times he did this, it never got old. He especially appreciated it now that he knew what it felt like to have it all taken away. Subconsciously he reached back and rubbed the spot on his back where the nightmare arrow had struck him, shuddering at the memory of the cold feeling of despair and fear that had spread through him.

Sandy knew it would not do well to dwell on that dark thought, so to distract himself he chose a random strand of dreamsand and followed it down to earth. He did this sometimes; he liked to check in on individual dreamers when he was feeling down. The stream of sand led him to a quaint little house in a quiet suburb. The girl inside was fast asleep among her pile of stuffed animals, dreaming of a day at the beach. He smiled at her peaceful little face, and then turned away from her window to follow another path of sand that went off in the opposite direction. This one belonged to a tiny baby who dreamed of warm arms embracing him. He continued traveling in this way, following strands of dreamsand on a whim. It led him all over the area, and he eventually found himself in the middle of the city.

He settled on top of a building to set up shop again; the people in this city fell asleep much later than those in the nearby suburbs. Most of them were just now going to bed. He started forming the streams of sand, but stopped at a sound that came from the alley below.

It was the sound of crying. A child's crying.

Sandy descended into the alley. The shadows made it hard to see much, but with another sob he located the source. It was a young boy; he couldn't have been more than fourteen years old. Still a child, and yet too old to believe. He did not see Sandy approach him, nor feel his hand on his arm.

The boy was very skinny, and his thin clothes were ripped and torn. He wore no shoes, and his feet were cut and bruised. His face was pale and drawn, and at the moment it was streaked with tears. His blond hair was matted with dirt and filth. Sandy could tell that he was sick; he shivered even though the night was warm and his breathing was labored. Sandy tried to get the boy to see him, waving his hand in front of his face and attempting to channel comforting thoughts straight into the boy's mind. It did not work; Sandy was not, after all, telepathic.

He knew the boy was dying. He knew it with a grim certainty in the bottom of his heart. And he knew that he could not save him. But Sandy did not want his end to be like this: alone and heartbroken in a dirty, dark alley. So he did the only thing he could. With a gentle touch to his forehead, the boy fell asleep, and Sandy summoned some dreamsand that swirled around the boy's head.

Sandy watched as the sand moved to shape images. There was the boy, healthy and happy, surrounded by figures who Sandy knew must be his family. The images moved, changing from scene to scene: the boy was playing with his siblings, talking with his father, hugging his mother. He was lying on his back under a starlit sky, holding hands with a beautiful girl. He was laughing with a friend as they shared a loaf of bread. He was giving the last of his food to a hungry little girl- even though it was clear he needed everything he could get- and was smiling at her disbelieving joy. One by one his memories wove into his dreams, until the last image: his family and friends, holding out their hands and smiling with love. There was a soft glow of light, and then the dreamsand was just sand once more. It looped once around the boy's still form before turning and racing away through the dark.

Sandy took one of the boy's limp hands and held it in both of his own, and that was where he stayed. He stayed until the sky lightened and the rays of the sun pierced the alley. He stayed until an elderly woman took out her trash and, finding the boy, called the police. He stayed until the ambulance wailed away as it carried the boy down the street, even though the paramedics knew as well as he that it was too late. He stayed even after everyone had left and the alley was empty once more. Only then did he rise off the ground and take to the sky.

Children had died before; Sandy had seen it happen. This boy was not the first one Sandy had helped pass on. It had happened before, and he knew it would happen again. It was simply the way of this cruel world. But that did not make him feel any better.

His heart weighed heavy with the knowledge that there would be one less trail of dreamsand to color the sky tonight.

* * *

**I just sort of started writing and let it take me where it wanted. Somehow it turned into angst, but a sweet sort of angst, I think.**


	12. Peace on Earth

**North's turn for the spotlight. Set before the movie. Christmas 1914, to be exact.**

* * *

Christmas was a time when miracles happened.

It was a time when families reunited, broken friendships mended, and the lonely found themselves among friends. It was a time when people's hearts opened and their love flourished. It was a beautiful time, and Nicholas St. North loved being a big part of it. He wouldn't trade his job for anything else in the world.

Yet sometimes the world's problems interfered with North's holiday. Like this particular Christmas, during which the trench war was going on. North was well aware of it; he had to be, seeing as his route took him through the war torn countries. It saddened him to think that even now, during what should be the happiest of times, there was still death and destruction. He could see the trenches now as he flew over the Western front in his sleigh. But something was different.

The trenches were lit up with lanterns and candles, and instead of the sound of gunshots he heard singing floating up through the air. He could see that men from both sides had emerged from the soggy trenches and were mingling in no man's land. Curious, North pulled back the reigns and directed his reindeer to land the sleigh. He was ahead of schedule, and he figured he could spare about fifteen minutes to see what was going on. When he was on the ground he hopped out of the sleigh and gave the closest reindeer a friendly pat before walking over to where all the soldiers had congregated, and he was amazed by what he saw.

All the guns had been set aside, lying in piles in the trenches. All the soldiers were in no man's land; not a single man had been left cowering in the muddy pits. Most of the men were simply talking or telling jokes, but that in itself was astounding. North saw several men from both sides with their arms thrown about each others' shoulders, laughing heartily and holding canteens of what was surely rum or beer. Many exchanged gifts, makeshift little trinkets or bits of food. Fifty or so soldiers had started a game of soccer with a worn out ball, and the game was quickly growing. Not far away, men from both sides were holding a joint burial ceremony for their dead, saluting and setting candles next to the makeshift graves. And everywhere there was singing: Christmas carols, psalms, songs of farewell. He heard _O Come All Ye Faithful_, _The First Noel_,_ O Tannenbaum_, and many more. The candles shone softly through the gentle snowfall, casting a warm glow over everything. The whole scene was like something from a dream.

North stared in amazement for a moment, and then his face split into an enormous grin. With a laugh he sauntered over to the main group, wandering through the crowd and listening to the conversations. He laughed at the jokes, smiled at the stories, and enjoyed the idle conversation. He went over to the empty trenches and placed little gifts in the soldiers' helmets: packages of sweets to lift their spirits and small toys to remind them of their families. He joined in the jovial singing and saluted the graves. But mostly he simply marveled at the wondrous atmosphere of kinship and joy.

War was a terrible thing. North knew that. But sometimes he forgot that the ones who were fighting the war were human beings, men with feelings and families and who had probably at one time believed. They had consciences that probably weighed down on them more and more with every bullet that was fired. So many were just boys, really, and North could tell that many of them were just out of childhood and had probably lied about their age to enlist. Just boys who were trying too fast to become men.

Yet North had to admire the human spirit, the brotherly kinship that was always there even if it didn't always show. But here, on this snowy Christmas Eve battlefield, it showed clearer than ever. It was wonderful, the goodness of humanity that came through even in the hardest of times. It was something that everyone- young or old, soldier or citizen, human or spirit- believed in.

North realized that his fifteen minutes were up. He had to get going if he was going to finish the Northern Hemisphere in time. He jumped back in his sleigh and cracked the reigns, and the reindeer took to the sky. He soared over the soldiers below, bellowing his trademark laugh and calling, "Merry Christmas!"

To his surprise several of the faces turned to the sky and waved back at him, yelling, "Happy Christmas!" and "Froehliche Weinachten!"

Yes, Christmas was a time when miracles happened.

* * *

**It ****_is_**** another history reference. But really, how could I resist taking advantage of a Christmas truce? As always, I'm not a history expert so please excuse any errors.**


	13. Little Ankle-Biter

**Bunny time!**

* * *

The sunlight shone through the gaps in the tree canopy, casting the grassy forest floor in bright morning light dappled with shadows that moved as the wind rustled the leaves. The air smelled of flowers and dew and faintly of paint. At first glance the clearing appeared to be empty, but if one looked closer they would see brightly colored eggs hidden in the hollows of trees and abandoned birds' nests, among tufts of tall grass and the branches of bushes, beneath fallen leaves and the seats of picnic tables. But it would take even sharper eyes to make out the furry figure crouched among the bushes.

Bunnymund watched from his hiding place as people started to arrive at the park, the children barely restraining themselves from going into a mad rush to find all the eggs. Only their parents held them back, telling them to wait until everyone was there. Nonetheless, their eyes eagerly swept the clearing as they searched for eggs and mapped out their battle plan. Soon there was a crowd of kids that clutched their baskets impatiently as they half-heartedly listened to the woman explaining the rules of the hunt.

"You may go on the count of three," she said, holding up three fingers. "One…" she put down a finger. "Two…" another finger went down. The air was charged with breathless anticipation now. And then, finally, "Three!"

The littlies were off like a shot, barely slowing in their stampede as they stooped to pick up eggs and place them in their baskets. They smiled and laughed with each new find, and the sound filled Bunny's heart like a balloon. It did not take long for all the obviously hidden eggs to be found, and the smaller children sat down to count their eggs while the older ones searched resiliently. A familiar brown haired boy passed close to Bunny's hiding place, and he whispered, "Psst! Jamie!"

Jamie did a double take, and when he saw Bunny hidden in the bushes he smiled. "Hi, Bunny!"

Bunny returned the smile. "Hey, kid. Keep it down, will ya? We're technically not supposed to have personal interactions with kids beyond what's necessary."

"Really?" Jamie lowered his voice and moved behind a tree so he was blocked from view. "Why not?"

Bunny stood up and moved behind the tree with Jamie. "Well, belief is more powerful when it comes without proof," he answered.

"Oh. Well, Jack comes to visit me all the time," Jamie said.

"Yeah, well, Jack has his own agenda, doesn't he? God help anyone who tries to tell him what to do." Jamie laughed, and Bunny continued, "But, I figured it would be alright to say hello to you. After all, you were the last light. That oughta be a good reason." He looked around and then asked him, "Is Sophie here?"

"Soph? Yeah, I'll go get her. She'll be really glad to see you!" Jamie went off and returned moments later with his blonde little sister.

"Bunny!" she squealed in delight. He crouched down and opened his arms and she launched herself into them, giving him a huge hug. One of Jamie's friends was calling him, and with a quick goodbye to Bunny he left them alone.

Bunny knew that, technically, Guardians weren't supposed to have favorite believers, the same way parents weren't supposed to have a favorite child. But he couldn't deny that he had been particularly fond of Sophie ever since she had stumbled into his Warren last year. The feeling seemed to be mutual, since she often went into near hysterics from her excitement at seeing him.

He set Sophie back down on the ground. "Hey, ya little ankle-biter. Enjoying Easter?"

She smiled, showing him her basket. "Pretty eggs!"

"I've got something for you," he said.

Her big green eyes widened. "Candy?"

He laughed. "No, something better." He reached into the pouch that he carried with him and pulled out a fine silver chain from which dangled a spherical glass pendant. Inside the sphere floated a perfect tiny replica of a painted egg.

Sophie let out a little "ooh" of dazzled wonder and reached for the necklace.

"But hang on a second, you haven't even seen the best part," Bunny said. He gave the orb a gentle shake and as Sophie watched the egg split apart to reveal a budding flower that opened and blossomed before her eyes. When it reached its peak the petals fell off in a flurry, and when they cleared it was back to an egg.

Sophie's jaw dropped in amazement. "Wow," she breathed.

Bunny chuckled as he clasped the necklace around her neck. "Happy Easter, Sophie."

Sophie took the pendant in her hand and shook it, watching the cycle again. She looked up at him with eyes big as saucers, lost for words.

"Every time you look at it remember me, okay?" Bunny said.

She nodded. Just then Jamie returned. "C'mon Soph, we have to go," he said. Sophie gave Bunny another hug, and as did Jamie.

"Bye, Bunny," Jamie said. "Until next Easter? Maybe sooner?" he asked hopefully. Sophie nodded vigorously by his side.

Bunny smiled. "I'll try."

With one last goodbye Jamie took his sister by the hand and led her away. Sophie turned around and waved at Bunny. He waved back before opening up a rabbit hole and jumping in, leaving a pink flower in his wake.

Bunny tried to never get too personal with his believers. If he did that, it just made it hurt worse when they got too old to believe. It was best to stay distanced. He saw hurt coming Jack's way especially, seeing as he and Jamie had become like best friends. But he didn't have the heart to tell the kid so. However, now he found himself in the same situation, seeing how close he had become to Sophie. The necklace he had given her wasn't just an Easter gift; he had meant it when he had told her to remember him every time she looked at it. It was his way of keeping Sophie a child for as long as he could.

It wouldn't last forever, though, he knew. Every child had to grow up sometime. But who knew? Maybe Sophie would be the first to keep believing during adulthood. He had to hope for that.

After all, hope was what Easter was all about.

* * *

**No, that was NOT meant to be Bunny and Sophie pairing. So if that's what you're thinking you're wrong.**


	14. First Snowfall

**And, finally, Jack's turn.**

* * *

Snow day.

They were such simple little words. Without the other they either meant ice crystals that fell from the sky or the amount of time it took the earth to rotate once on its axis, but when the two were put together it meant so much more. It meant street closings and school cancellations, it meant snow shovels and plastic sleds, it meant hats and scarves and coats and gloves. It meant snow angels and igloos, it meant ice sculptures and snowmen, and it meant snowball fights and numb fingers and toes. It meant smiles and laughter and, most of all, fun.

Jack Frost had been around for a lot of snow days, and he loved every second of them. From the fervent expectation of students waiting for their school to be announced as closed, to the final retreat at the end of the day inside where hot chocolate by the fire awaited. Everyone loved a good snow day; or at least, everyone who had a good sense of fun. The adults, of course, always grumbled about the icy roads and the walks that needed to be shoveled. But who cared what they thought? Jack didn't make it snow for them; he did it for the kids.

A snow day was wonderful no matter where it happened, but Jack especially enjoyed snow days in the southern United States. They didn't happen very often, seeing as the region's natural climate counteracted Jack's powers, but sometimes he would take advantage of a cold snap and bring some snow. It didn't have to be a lot; because they weren't accustomed to snow the people tended to overreact a bit when it did start to fall. He had once managed to bring a few icicles and a light dusting to a city in Texas and they had practically shut down the whole town. But that was what made snow days in the south so great, their overreactions. And the fact that, for some of the people there, it would be the first time they would see snow in person.

Today was going to be one of those days. Jack was in Florida now, in the middle of the night during a cold snap. It would probably be his last chance for a long time to bring the people in this area anything more than a thin frost, and he was going to take it. He had already frosted the ground so that the snow wouldn't melt on contact, and as he stood on top of a telephone pole he willed the snowfall to begin.

It came down just a few flakes at a time at first, but this quickly thickened into a flurry. Flurries were all Jack could manage here, because if he didn't have it come down hard and fast and briefly then it wouldn't come down at all. Long, slow, snowfalls just weren't an option here, even though he preferred them.

It was late, and Jack expected everyone in the neighborhood to be asleep. But then he heard the sound of a screen door slam shut and turned around to see a figure emerging from one of the houses. The figure stepped into the light of a street lamp and Jack saw that it was a teenage girl who had clearly been expecting this to happen, for she was clad in jeans and a light coat, which was probably the heaviest clothing she owned.

The girl turned her face to the sky and closed her eyes, letting the snow collect in her hair and eyelashes. She held her arms out as if to embrace the freezing air and, with a laugh, spun in a circle, her breath misting in the air. Then she cupped her hands and caught some snowflakes in her fingerless gloves, staring at them with sparkling eyes.

"Snow," she whispered in wonder.

Jack smiled as he watched. This, this was why snow days in the south were the best. It took a lot of his strength to make this little flurry, but it was worth it to see the look on this girl's face as she stood in the snow for the very first time.

The girl looked up at the sky through the twirling snow again and smiled. "It's beautiful."

Jack reached out and caught a snowflake in his own hand. He looked at its perfect crystalline shape, its delicate translucence. "Yes, it is," he agreed. Then he looked over at the girl and said, "Your first snowfall, huh? I think that deserves something special."

With a wave of his staff the wind complied with his wishes, causing the snow to whirl about the girl in a swirling vortex of white. She gasped in amazement, and as she stood there Jack leapt of the telephone pole and used his staff to make frost grow all around her. At the crackling sound of the frost she looked down beneath her feet. When she saw the formation in its entirety she spoke a soft "oh" of awe.

Jack had manipulated the frost so that it branched out in every direction from the spot where the girl stood, coiling and spiraling into a thousand rays. He had made a sun from the ice, and the girl was at its center. He stepped back to admire his work, and when he looked up his heart skipped a beat as he saw the girl staring directly at him.

"Are you…" she began.

Jack looked behind him, half expecting her to be talking to someone else. But there was no one.

"…Jack Frost?" the girl finished, confirming it.

A teenager who believed? Now this _was _rare. Not quite sure of what to say, Jack smiled casually despite his racing heart. "That's me."

The girl looked around at the snow that was still falling. "Did you do this?"

"Yeah," Jack said hesitantly. "Snow and frost, that's kind of my thing."

She looked back at him, staring straight into his eyes and smiled a big grin that showed off her teeth. "Thank you."

Jack's heart soared and he smiled back. "No problem."  
Just then a light came on in the girl's house and she looked over in alarm. "I have to go," she said. "Will you come back?"

"Maybe," he said, even though he knew he probably wouldn't be able to. He could feel his strength ebbing even now. "But if I don't, every time you see frost on the ground in the morning- that's me."

The girl gave him one last smile. "Goodbye, Jack Frost." Then she turned and ran back to her house.

"Goodbye," Jack murmured. He watched as she disappeared back through the screen door before he turned and took to the sky. The snow was slowing now, but he figured he had gotten the kids around here enough snow for the day off.

He wondered if the girl would remember him or simply write him off as a pleasant dream. She was, after all, past the age when most kids stopped believing.

But whatever happened, Jack was happy to have had that one moment in her first snowfall.

* * *

**For all of you who have never had a snow day: I'm sorry. They're pretty awesome.**


	15. Markings on the Wall

**This one has been bouncing around my head for a while now.**

* * *

The wind had a harder time carrying Jack than usual, for he was weighed down with an armful of paint jars and brushes that he had borrowed from Bunny's Warren. When he was still a hundred feet above the Burgess streets he slipped through the wind's grasp and nearly splattered against the concrete, but with quick thinking he managed to conjure up an ice slide that deposited him none too gracefully onto the sidewalk. He quickly stood up and continued on his way as if he had meant to do that, and soon arrived on the banks of his lake. Taking a shortcut across the frozen surface Jack disappeared into the woods on the other side.

After a few minutes of walking Jack arrived at his destination: a cave cut into a rock overhang. He slipped inside the narrow opening and set his load on the floor before straightening and causing his staff to glow, illuminating the rough gray wall of stone in front of him. The wall was covered in tens of thousands of scratches. But they were not the random scratches of an animal sharpening its claws; these were grouped into sets of five, four straight marks with a fifth slash diagonally through in a tally. They looked much like the marks a prisoner made on the wall of his cell to count how long he had been trapped, and in reality this was not far off.

Jack had made these marks on the wall. There was one scratch for every day that he spent alone, every day without conversation or comfort or companionship. He was not sure why, all those years ago, he had begun making this dark tally. Perhaps he had done it to make a mark on the world to prove that he was really there. Whatever his subconscious reasoning, it had become just a part of his routine. These marks represented years and years of solitude. Jack had spent many a despairing night here in this cave, staring at the growing tally of his time in the prison that was his life and wondering if it was a life sentence. He had shouted questions at the walls until his voice grew hoarse and he could do nothing more than whisper. He imagined he could hear those echoes even now.

_Why am I here? What is the purpose of such a lonely life? Who am I?_

This place was a reminder of his darkest times and his lowest points. But no longer, not after today.

Jack picked up a brush and dipped it into a jar of paint, sweeping the color in broad strokes across the scuffed wall. Each brushstroke covered up years' worth of scratches, erasing hundreds of nights of gloom. Jack knew that eliminating the effects of those years was not so simple; the marks were still there. All he had to do was scratch away the paint to see them. But the paint seemed symbolic, a new fresh slate on which to write his story.

Jack picked up a different brush and dipped it into a different color, placing the tip on the wall and continuing to paint. His artwork quickly grew more detailed, and soon the floor around him was littered with open jars of paint and used brushes. Jack himself was splattered with paint of red and gold and green and gray and blue, but he was too absorbed in what he was doing to care. After a time he gently added the final detail and stepped back to view what he had done.

The scratches on the wall were no longer invisible. Instead the entire wall was covered in an image on a dark blue background: it portrayed all of the Guardians standing together. Jack stood in the center, his staff held in one hand and his other reaching for a falling snowflake. On his immediate right was North, who had a sack thrown over his shoulder and a present in his hand. Sandy floated next to him, his dreamsand swirling about him. On Jack's left stood Bunnymund, around whose feet flowers bloomed and eggs wandered. Tooth hovered next to him. Several of her mini-fairies flanked her and she cradled a tooth in her hands.

Jack thought it had turned out quite well considering his limited artistic talent. With a gust of wind the last of the paint dried, and he stepped forward and placed his hand on the wall. A transparent layer of ice spread out in every direction from beneath his palm, covering the entire painting. He put in a little extra magic so that it would never melt, sealing and protecting the painting from the damage of weather and time. As Jack stood there gazing at the image on the wall, he confronted the lingering shadows and doubts that haunted this cave.

_Why am I here?_

He was there to protect the children of the world, sheltering their innocence from the evil that lurked in every dark corner.

_What is the purpose of such a lonely life?_

His purpose was to bring a little bit of fun into the lives of kids, especially those who had forgotten what it was like. And it was not such a lonely life, not anymore.

_Who am I?_

Jack took a deep breath, and when he spoke it was in a strong, clear voice that banished, at least for now, the uncertainties of his mind.

"I am Jack Frost. I am a Guardian."

* * *

**Random and slightly unrelated observation: when you watch the movie over and over again to try and interpret in depth each person's character, it tends to make you over analyze things a bit. For example, when the window to Jamie's room frosts over while Jack is looking in.**

**Normal person: Oh, the window's frosting over because he's the spirit of winter. Makes sense.**

**Me: Aww, the window's frosting over because Jack's powers respond to his emotions and since his hood is up you can tell that he's sad and lonely and wishing for a family like Jamie's! Poor Jack!**


	16. Shadowy Introductions

**My personal take on something you have probably read countless versions of. Set before the movie.**

* * *

The night was black and starless, weighing upon the silent little village like a heavy blanket. Everything seemed to be holding its breath, as if waiting for something it was not sure would come. But the tension was suddenly alleviated as playful streams of gold snaked across the obsidian sky. The dreamsand meandered through the village, finding its way to the beds of the children and causing them to smile in their sleep. A few of the low, dark clouds parted, revealing the crescent shape of the moon.

Pitch Black, from his spot on a tree-covered cliff not far away, watched the scene with scornful eyes. He longed to reach out to touch the dreamsand and corrupt it into its dark counterpart, but he did not dare. It was too soon, much too soon, after his defeat to try anything that might provoke the Guardians. He needed time to recover his strength, so all he could do was stand here and watch and think about how things might have been. But time was the one resource he had a boundless supply of, and he knew that he could be as patient as he needed. Someday, he would strike again and he would not fail.

Pitch was so deep in his thoughts that when the voice behind him spoke he was caught off guard.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Pitch spun around and was surprised to see a boy sitting on a high tree branch, his back against the trunk and his eyes fixed on the golden sand in the distance. For a moment he took him as human, but after a second look he realized that he was a spirit of some sort. After all, what human boy would have such pure white hair, could be out in such cold with no shoes, and would have a staff that glowed with mystic blue light? He had never seen the boy before, and so was wary as he said,

"I suppose that depends on your definition of beautiful."

The boy dropped off his perch and landed gracefully on his feet. "I'm guessing your definition is different from the conventional one, then."

Pitch thought of the things he considered beautiful: the tangled black mane of a nightmare, the slithering motion of his nightmare sand, the wide, frightened eyes of a terrified child. "You could say that," he said. Then, after a pause, he said, "Who are you?"

The boy shifted his staff to his left hand and held out his right. "Jack Frost. Spirit of Winter and all things that come with it." When Pitch merely stared at him coldly Jack shrugged and dropped his hand. "And you?"

Pitch turned away to look back at the village again as he said, "Pitch Black. Nightmare King."

The fear he expected did not come. Instead, Jack said, "Impressive title."

"What do you want, boy?" Pitch questioned, slightly irritated.

Jack came and stood next to him, also looking out over the scene below. But not too close, Pitch noticed. Just because the spirit wasn't scared didn't mean he was stupid. "I have a right to investigate anyone suspicious hanging around my lake. And you, sir, fit the bill for suspicious." He hesitated, then. "And you looked lonely."

Pitch smirked, "What would you know of loneliness?"

Jack laughed without humor, a harsh and bitter sound. But when he spoke, some of the bitterness in his tone had subsided. "I know that loneliness is a selfish thing. It thrives on solitude, but when it's shared it can't survive."

Pitch shot him a sideways glance. "You are very wise, child," he admitted grudgingly.

"Oh, I don't know about wise," Jack replied. "But I've certainly had a lot of time to think about these things."

Pitch began to walk away. "It would be best for the both of us if you stayed away from me, Jack Frost."

To his surprise it was these words that caused a trickle of fear to come off the boy; it was faint, but Pitch could definitely smell blood and the taste of evergreen needles prickled his tongue.

"What?" Jack said. Pitch could detect a very slight edge of panic in his voice. "Why?"

Still walking away, Pitch said, "If you throw your lot in with me you are simply asking for trouble from the Guardians. Besides, I don't need some insignificant little winter sprite tailing me around." He allowed himself a glance back and was gratified to see Jack visibly wince from the verbal blow.

"I'm not a sprite," he said. He ran after him and reached out his hand, brushing Pitch's arm. "And how bad can you be, really?"

Pitch whirled around in a blur of black and before Jack could react he caught him by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground. The winter spirit's blue eyes widened slightly in surprise and the taste of pine needles became stronger. "You don't know anything about me, boy," Pitch growled before dropping him.

Jack rose to his feet and backed off, his palms raised in a non-threatening gesture. "Alright, you've made your point."

"Good," Pitch said with a glare. "Then why don't you go off and freeze some water puddles or whatever it is that winter spirits are supposed to do."

Jack's expression hardened. "You're no different from the rest of them," he said. His voice was tinged with coldness and disappointment; he sounded completely different from the casual conversationalist he had been just moments before.

Pitch didn't ask who "they" were. Instead, he smiled grimly and said, "Oh no, Frost; I am quite different. I assure you I am much, much worse." With that he melted into the shadows, leaving Jack standing alone against a backdrop of the black sky, the gold dreamsand, and the silvery light of the moon.

* * *

**Hm. I meant for that to go on longer but it just sort of ended itself. Oh well.**

**So anyway, I put this particular one shot into a website that tells you what author you write like, and it came up with Neil Gaiman. He wrote ****_The Graveyard Book _****in which a character named Jack Frost is a serial killer who is bent on murdering the boy named Nobody who lives in the graveyard with only ghosts for company.**

**OK then.**

**Seriously though, I've read that book and I actually quite liked it. It seemed rather... sinister while being innocent at the same time. Quite an interesting combination. And intriguing too. I was actually a little flattered when they said I wrote like him.**


	17. Always There

**We have a new perspective in this one.**

* * *

Jack and the wind. The wind and Jack. The playful boy spirit and his unpredictable companion, making mischief wherever they went. It was a given; it had always been a given. The wind knew Jack was special from the moment he first saw him running across the frozen lake, leaving a frosty trail in his wake. He had picked him up in its gentle embrace, but it was clear that he had not been expecting it. It took time, but after many close calls with trees, dozens of clumsy landings and an unfortunate encounter with a flock of geese, Jack became a natural at riding the wind. The wind enjoyed their wild rides; Jack was as light as a snowflake and did not try to control the wind as so many other spirits did. No, Jack's relationship with the wind was an equal partnership; an understanding that neither would try to dominate the other. They coexisted fluidly and harmoniously, and the wind could not deny favoring its frost child over all others.

The wind was always there for Jack. In his times of sorrow the wind would cradle him high above the earth until the tears that fell like drops of icy rain ceased to flow. In his times of joy the wind would carry his whoops and laughs for miles in every direction for the world to hear. In his times of uncertainty the wind would whisper words of advice in his ear, even if Jack did not always understand. The wind was always there for Jack, but sometimes it seemed like he forgot that.

Sometimes Jack would sit in one place and refuse to be coaxed into a ride. He would just stay perched on his staff staring at the moon and speak of things the wind did not understand. He would speak of loneliness and family and feeling lost. How could he be lonely? He had the wind, and the wind could take him somewhere where there were people, lots of people, and he wouldn't be lonely. As for family, who needed a family? The wind had never had a family, and it had never needed one. The wind had the stars and the sky and Jack, and that was plenty good enough. Wasn't that good enough for Jack? And if Jack was lost, he could simply call the wind to take him anywhere he wanted. You could never be lost when the wind was your friend. The wind would wrap around Jack endearingly and tell him these things, but Jack never seemed to hear. He always seemed to think he was alone.

Whenever this happened, whenever Jack acted like the wind was not even there, the wind would go off howling mournfully through the trees. But it always returned. The wind would never abandon its winter child, its dear Jack. If only Jack could see that.

The wind did not really understand emotions. Its own emotions were simple and uncomplicated: when the wind was with Jack it was happy, when Jack ignored the wind it was sad, when someone tried to hurt Jack it was angry. But Jack's emotions were complex and alien to the wind, and when he was engulfed by them he was so distant he might as well be on the dark side of the moon. But the wind never left, not completely. All it took was a single word from Jack for the wind to come rushing to his aid.

Because the wind would always, always be there for Jack.

* * *

**You guys, I figured out the line breaks finally! They should really make how to make them more obvious. But you know, I never really thought to look on the toolbar so I guess that's mostly my fault. I'm going to go back and edit and make them all with line breaks now.**


	18. Breaking Point

**So this sort of a continuation of Rainbow Snowflakes; I know that was a while back. But I think this will become an arc.**

* * *

"Why am I here again?"

Jack was looking at Bunny suspiciously as they stood mere feet away from the waters of his lake. The sun shone down on him, uncomfortably warm. Every few seconds he shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. He shot the sky a wary look, as if expecting something to come flying down at him at any moment.

Bunny answered him, "You are going to learn how to swim."

Jack looked startled. "What? Why?"

"For the next time you get yourself thrown into the Rainbow River," Bunny answered. "I've got better things to do than save your skinny little bum every time it happens."

"You could just tell your stupid golems to leave me alone," Jack pointed out.

Bunny cocked his head. "Why would I do that?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "It won't work, you know. I _can't _learn to swim. Water freezes over when I touch it."

"Which is why we're doing this in the middle of summer," Bunny answered.

"Summer," Jack muttered. "Not a good time for me. I really shouldn't be here."

"Well, the sooner you get swimming the sooner you can skedaddle," Bunny gestured to the dark waters of the lake.

Jack looked at the water and took a step away from the edge, saying, "Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

Bunny could tell he was about to fly away, but just as he was launching off Bunny grabbed his arm, keeping him grounded. He quickly grabbed the winter spirit's staff, cutting off his communication with the wind and preventing him from fleeing.

Jack's expression hardened and his voice was tightly controlled as he said, "Bunny. Give it back."

The staff felt flimsy and utterly breakable in Bunny's paws, not anything like the glowing weapon of deadly power it was in Jack's hands. Bunny was afraid that the slightest wrong movement would cause it to splinter into pieces, so he gently set it down in the grass behind him. "Look mate, I just don't want you to fly off before we get this done."

Jack wrenched his arm from Bunny's grip saying, "I am _not_ going in that water."

"Why not?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter!" Bunny repeated, his voice rising. "It's nothing! I'm fine! That's all I ever hear from you! Why are you so elusive, Jack? Why won't you just _tell_ me what's wrong with you?"

"Why do you care?" Jack shouted back. "You never cared before! None of you _ever _cared!"

The anger and bitterness in his words alarmed Bunny, and he took an involuntary step back.

**_CRACK._**

The sound reverberated across the surface of the lake, and everything fell silent very suddenly. Bunny looked down at the ground beneath his foot in horror. Jack's staff lay broken, split by the weight of Bunny's foot upon it.

"Oh no," he gasped. "Jack, I- I didn't-" he looked up and saw Jack standing stiffly in place, his mouth still slightly open and his eyes glazed over with pain.

Suddenly a groan escaped his mouth and he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around his midsection and squeezing his eyes shut. "It wasn't this bad before…" he whispered.

These words snapped Bunny out of his frozen, horrified pose. "Before? What do you mean 'before'?"

But Jack didn't answer. Bunny, unsure of what to do, crouched by Jack's side. He reached out and gently grasped Jack's arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

But Jack jerked away from his touch, saying through gritted teeth, "Don't, Bunny. Just don't- don't touch me."

"Jack, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- it was an accident- I just…"

His voice trailed off as his mind raced ahead of him. What had he done? He had known the staff was very important to Jack, but he had never thought that damage to it would cause Jack physical pain. How could he fix this? A new staff, maybe, but something told Bunny that he could not simply replace something that was clearly so deeply rooted in Jack's very being.

Jack suddenly stumbled to his feet and scooped up the pieces of his staff from the grass. With shaky steps he made his way towards the trees, saying, "It's too hot here. I need… I need somewhere cold."

"Where are you going?" Bunny said, bounding after him. "You're in no fit shape to go off by yourself. I'll take you to the North Pole or something-"

"No, Bunny. Just leave me alone."

"Jack-" Bunny started to protest, but Jack sped up his pace and disappeared into the forest. Bunny tried to follow, but these woods were Jack's territory and he soon lost him.

Bunny was left with only the wind for company, both of them calling for the one they had lost.

* * *

**One more part for this, I think.**


	19. The Truth- Sort of

**So... I lied. The one ****_after_**** this one will be the last one for this arc. Probably.**

* * *

Jack sat with his head leaning against the wall, breathing deeply. The air in the cave was so much better. It was damp and cool and dark, away from the merciless beating sun. He pressed his forehead against the ice that covered the painted wall, reveling in the cold relief it brought him. But it could do nothing to banish the pain that was eating away at his insides.

The first time his staff had been broken on that cold, dark day in Antarctica, it had not been like this. Yes, it had hurt, but it was a brief sort of pain; a snapping jolt that was so intense he had blacked out. But this time, it was more like he had been stabbed with a fiery knife, and although the knife had been pulled out the fire still blazed within him. It was all he could do to not be writhing on the ground at the moment.

All he had to do was just put his staff back together. Do that and he would be fine. Good as new. But he just… couldn't. He didn't have the strength. The heat of the day- a _summer_ day, at that- was just sucking so much out of him. He just needed to rest for a while, calm down and cool off.

The wind whooshed in through the narrow opening to the cave, recognizing him and circling around him. Jack was used to having the wind as a companion, but with his staff broken that had been taken away. The wind was just wind now, moving air that did nothing more than flutter his hair and lessen the heat. It carried with it the distant sounds of Bunny's yells.

Jack didn't blame Bunny for what had happened. Well, alright, maybe just a little bit. After all, the stupid Kangaroo shouldn't have taken away his staff in the first place. First thing you learn about seasonal spirits: it is complete and utter taboo to mess with said spirit's conduit of power. Bunny should have known that. But Jack knew that, annoying as Bunny could be, he would never, _ever_ break his staff on purpose, even if he didn't know how deeply connected he was to it. He had seen the distress on Bunny's face and had heard it in his voice even through his haze of pain, and knew just how regretful he was. But that didn't mean he wanted him around right now. He didn't trust him enough to not make fun of him in this moment of weakness.

The wind, however, did not seem to care. Distressed at Jack's state, it swept away to find Bunny. Within a few moments Jack heard his approaching voice, agitated and confused, and the hopping pattern of his footsteps.

"Traitor," he muttered to the wind.

The strip of sunlight that splayed across the rocky floor was suddenly blacked out with Bunny's tall silhouette as he stood in the entrance of the cave. "Jack?" his gruff voice called out. When he saw Jack curled up against the wall he stepped towards him and said, "Are you alright, mate?"

Jack laughed once. "Oh yes, Bunny," he said in a voice thick with sarcasm. "I'm just peachy."

Bunny's eyes flicked to the mural on the wall but he wisely decided not to comment. Instead he said, "Well there's no need to get snappy. I'm just trying to help."

Jack looked at him skeptically. "Help? And what exactly were you planning on doing?"

"Well I'm not just gonna leave you to waste away in some dark corner, am I?" He walked over and sat next to Jack, glancing at the pieces of his staff on the ground. "Maybe we can get you a new staff."

Jack gave him an amused look. "You really don't know anything about seasonal spirits and their talismans, do you?"

Bunny glared at him. "Well, it's not exactly at the top of my priority list."

Jack closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. "Yeah, I know."

The silence stretched on for a few moments, and then Bunny's voice floated through Jack's world of darkness. "So, what are you going to do?"

Jack opened one eye and said, "Fix it, obviously."

"Obviously…?" Realization dawned on Bunny's face. "Back at the lake, you said 'before'… when have you had to fix it before?"

Jack sighed. He couldn't say he hadn't seen this coming. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "It was after the Easter Fiasco. I went down to Antarctica to... think things out. Pitch was there. He and I had a… disagreement. My staff ended up broken, and I found out I could fix it. Then I came back here to set things right."

Jack knew that Bunny knew that he was leaving something out, but he didn't elaborate. He didn't want to talk about Pitch's offer. Why? Because he knew that none of the Guardians would _ever_ consider accepting it, even for a moment. And, as much as he tried to deny it, the truth of the matter was… he had.

But Bunny didn't press the subject. However, Jack could guess what his next question would be, and so he said, "And as long as we're on the subject, you should know that the time I was in Antarctica was when I saw my memories. And I saw the reason I was chosen." He straightened up and faced Bunny full on as he said, "When I was human, I had a sister. One day I took her ice skating, but the ice was thin. I saved _her_, but as for me…"

He didn't have to continue. Bunny's face showed quite clearly he knew what happened next.

"So… yeah," he finished somewhat lamely. "I'm not really a big fan of water. Or swimming."

"Well," Bunny said quietly. "I don't think I would be either."

Then he fell silent as he digested everything that had just been said. Just as Jack was beginning to feel awkward, he looked towards the mural on the wall.

"Did you paint this?" he asked.

Jack was slightly startled by the sudden change in subject. "Yeah," he said, wary of the teasing comments he was sure were coming.

To his surprise, Bunny said. "It's actually quite good. But look, if you add some lighter gold here," he stood up and gestured to parts of the painting, "You could make the dreamsand look like it's moving. And a few accents of purple here would really bring out Tooth's eyes. And if you put a few strokes of blue among the brown," he pointed to painted-Jack's staff, "It would make it look more magical. Of course," he glanced to the broken staff on the ground, "It looks far from that right now."

Jack followed his gaze and gently picked up the splintered wood.

Strangely, talking to Bunny had somehow lessened the burning sensation in Jack's chest, and some of his strength had returned. Of course, he was still uncomfortably warm and feeling a little queasy, but he decided to give fixing his staff another shot.

Glancing at Bunny who was watching him intently, Jack pressed the pieces together and clenched his eyes shut. He forgot about the hot sun that waited outside the cave and thought instead of cold winter nights and dancing snowflakes. He thought of warm laughs and bright smiles. And he thought of a little girl with long brown hair and wide, trusting eyes.

When he opened his eyes he saw the glowing blue light that spiraled from the seam between the pieces reflected in Bunny's astonished green eyes. The light grew in its intensity, focusing into a single blinding flash. When it cleared, Jack's staff was whole once again. He let out a single relieved laugh as he shifted it from hand to hand, enjoying the strength it gave him and the overall _rightness_ of the feeling.

"Well," Bunny said. "That was something, alright."

Jack glanced up with a smirk. "Oh, just say it. You're impressed."

Bunny snorted but didn't deny it. He walked towards the exit of the cave, saying, "C'mon, Jack."

Jack started to follow and smiled when the wind picked him up, embracing him with joy. "Where are you going?"

Bunny glanced back at him. "You're still learning how to swim."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I told you-"

"All the more reason for you to do this," Bunny interrupted. He turned around and faced him. "We all have fears, Jack. And we all have to face them. If we don't, then we become weak and our fears start to rule us. And that is not an option." He turned back around and set off towards the lake again.

Jack stood there for a moment before he followed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was not sure what he had expected Bunny's reaction to his story to be. Sympathetic, maybe, or horrified. But Jack was glad that he wasn't. Was he emotionally stunted? Maybe. But Jack was beginning to realize that when Bunny got emotional, he got mad rather than show it. Like right now.

"Aww, you do care," he said to himself as he flew to catch up to Bunny.

* * *

**When a lot of other people do this sort of scene they usually have Bunny getting all sappy and caring, but I've always pictured him as a "no excuses, don't take crap from anybody" kind of guy. But that's just me. And I do think that he puts up emotional barriers.**


	20. Jump In

**Conclusion to the Rainbow Snowflakes arc.**

* * *

Jack stood on the very edge of the lake, the gentle movement of the water lapping up against his toes. He stared at it intently, taking deep breaths and calming his rapid heartbeat. His staff was safely leaning against a tree along with his hoodie, and Bunny was already in the water, having just finished showing Jack the basic swimming motions. Now it was time for Jack to try them himself.

He looked at his feet, so pale that he could faintly see the veins. So pale that his toenails were dark in comparison to his skin. So pale that they were almost tinted blue.

_Drowned feet, _the thought crossed his mind. But he pushed it away. Now was not the time to be thinking like that.

"The most important thing to do," Bunny said, "Is to let go of your fear and _don't panic. _I'll be right here just in case. And remember, you can't die again; you're immortal."

Immortal. Yes, that was comforting. Or at least it should have been. And yet he continued to stand there, paralyzed and unmoving.

_Just do it, _he thought. _Just jump in._

And so, before he lost his resolve and the panicked part of his brain took over, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped.

* * *

The water turned cold at his touch, but because of the summer heat and the restraint Jack had over his powers it did not freeze over. But the feel of the water surrounding him on all sides triggered something in his brain and broken thoughts and images began rushing through his mind.

_The creaking of ice beneath his feet and the terror on her face-_

_And the moment of relief when all was well, but then- _crack-

_And the water froze his limbs, and all he could do was watch as the sun faded away-_

_And he needed to breathe, he _needed _to breathe, but all there was when he opened his mouth was the icy, unforgiving water-_

_And it was cold, and it was dark, and he was scared…_

Jack forced himself to remain in the present, to focus on the moment at hand. But the wave of memories threatened to overwhelm him, and despite his attempts panic began to take over. His powers started to get out of his control and slowly, very slowly, the top of the lake began to ice over.

_Move your arms, _he thought to himself sternly. _What did Bunny say? Kick your feet._

He did the motions that Bunny had showed him, and when he opened his eyes he was surprised to see that the water was not an endless black hole that waited to swallow him up. It was clear and blue and the sunlight that filtered through the water illuminated everything around him. He noticed the ice that was forming on the surface and reigned in his powers so that it shrank back. He looked around and saw the fish that swam lazily around him and the rocks that littered the muddy floor and the lost toys that had been dropped into the lake and never found.

Surely this couldn't be the same lake. It wasn't anything like the black mouth that had devoured him on that fateful day. It was actually kind of… nice.

His lungs began to burn, and with a few sweeping motions of his arms he broke the surface and took a gasping breath. He turned onto his back and floated there, staring at the sky and marveling that he was still alive.

Bunny's voice floated across the surface of the water. "Well?"

Jack slowly paddled his way back to the lakeside. "It… wasn't bad."

"You looked a little out of sorts at first."

"Well, can you blame me?"

"I suppose not."

Jack climbed out of the lake and wiped some water out of his eyes. "But I _don't _want to do it again."

Bunny gave his face a searching look, and apparently he saw whatever he was looking for because he nodded. "Alright, fine."

Jack walked over to the tree where his things lay and picked up his staff and put on his hoodie. "Now, I'm going to leave before I start melting under this sun and before anyone unwanted shows up."

Bunny raised an eyebrow. "Unwanted? Like who?"

"Seasons aren't meant to intrude upon each other," Jack said cryptically in way of explanation. "Especially opposite seasons." With that he called the wind to his side and took to the air.

When he was quite a ways up, he looked down at the lake, now just a tiny blue splotch of color against a giant landscape. It was just a pool of water, he realized. There was nothing to fear from it. It was not the lake he feared; it was the memories it brought back.

In a way this realization gladdened Jack, for he knew now what the heart of his fear was. But at the same time he had to recognize that when he was afraid of something in his mind it was much harder to deal with than if he was afraid of a physical thing. In spite of this, he sent the lake a satisfied smirk and flew off, putting the issue out of his mind.

He would leave Bunny to deal with the angry summer spirit that would very likely be quite upset at the trees he had frozen when no one had been looking.

* * *

**That ending gave me quite a bit of trouble. Not sure why.**


	21. A Nightmare's Dream

**Requested by Dreamcreator. Sort of.**

* * *

Sandy was curious.

He had just been about to finish up delivering dreams for the night when he had seen a figure curled up at the base of a tree at the edge of the woods. When he had looked closer he had been surprised to realize that it was Pitch, asleep and unaware of Sandy's presence.

Sandy did not believe in unnecessary violence. And it didn't appear that Pitch was doing anything harmful. After all, the mere fact that he was out in the open in such a vulnerable position signaled that he was still too powerless to attempt anything. Besides, attacking your enemy when he was asleep or when his back was turned was cowardice, and Sandy believed in a fair fight. And so he had been about to leave Pitch where he was, but his curiosity held him back.

Was it possible for the King of Nightmares, he wondered, to have a dream?

Sandy concentrated his dreamsand into a single powerful stream and sent it spiraling down to Pitch. He could feel the sand being threatened by corruption just from being in contact with the dark spirit, but he persisted, struggling to keep the sand pure. With much effort he succeeded, and the sand swirled around Pitch's head, forming a surprising image.

* * *

Pitch was floating in the familiar dark oblivion that was his sleep. He could sense the nightmares at the edge of his consciousness, watching and protecting. But something suddenly disturbed them, and one by one they began to disappear. Pitch looked around for the source of the problem, but all he could see was the darkness and the soft golden mist that was invading it. Pitch tried to get away from the strange mist, but it soon surrounded him, enveloping him in a cloud. Soon it began to dissipate, and when it cleared he found himself in a strange new place.

He was in a clearing, in the middle of a ring of closely clustered trees. The sky above him was blue and cloudless, the grass below thick and green. He looked around warily, and his eyes were drawn to the shadowy gap between two trees in which he could see a faint silhouette.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

The silhouette shifted and the figure stepped into the light, and when Pitch saw who it was it hit him like a punch in the gut.

It was a tall, regal woman clothed in a long, flowing gown. The gown was made entirely out of leaves: the small, budding leaves of the springtime, the thick, dark green leaves of summer, the fiery colored leaves of the autumn, and wintry leaves covered in a sparkling layer of frost. She had endless black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and piercing green eyes. Clouds of mist swirled around her feet, and the wind blew playfully through her hair like a faithful pet. She was smiling, but it was a bittersweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It's- it's you," Pitch gasped. "Seraphina…"

The woman laughed lightly. "Hello, Papa. It's been so long."

"This can't be real," he whispered. Then his voice rose, "This can't be real! You- you died! I _watched_ you die…"

"Can an immortal ever really die?" Seraphina asked softly. "I am still here, in the gust of the wind and the movement of the leaves…" she took a step forward, moving closer to Pitch.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Her forehead crinkled as she frowned slightly. "I wanted to see you, Papa." She reached up a hand and touched his face.

Pitch's voice hardened and he pulled away. "I am not your papa. That man is gone; he disappeared a long time ago."

"No," Seraphina said. She lowered her hand to his chest, just over his heart. Did he even have one? "He's not."

The spot where her hand touched him grew warm, and the sensation spread out from there. When Pitch looked down he saw light spreading out from beneath her palm, and everywhere it touched changed. His black robes lightened to gold, his gray skin colored to tanned bronze, and the weight he carried with him everyday lessened. Soon his whole body had changed, and the reflection of his face he saw in Seraphina's eyes was one he had not seen in a very long time: his eyes were not the nightmarish amber that he had grown so accustomed to, but a hue of brightest blue.

"Kozmotis Pitchiner," Seraphina continued. "My father, is still in there somewhere. He had a strong spirit, one of the strongest I have ever seen. And part of that spirit remains, locked somewhere deep inside Pitch Black's dark heart. And I think that, if he really tried, if he was given a chance, he could come back."

She pulled her hand away, and as Pitch watched the color leached out of his skin and clothes, returning him to normal. The heavy weight of the darkness settled back on his shoulders. Seraphina took a few steps backward, retreating to the shadows of the trees. The mist that snaked around her ankles followed her.

"No," Pitch said in spite of himself. "Seraphina, don't go."

She smiled at him again. "Someday we will meet again, Papa. And until then, I will be waiting."

Then her face melted into shadow, and with a gust of wind she was gone. Pitch saw something glint in the grass where she had been standing. He walked over and picked it up; it was a very familiar locket. Seraphina's young face looked back at him, and there was an inscription in the metal.

_Blood of my blood,_

_Heart of my heart,_

_Soul of my soul._

Suddenly the sky began to darken and the picturesque landscape began to dissolve back into darkness. The sky turned gray and then black, the trees merged with the dark void, and the grass fell away from beneath his feet, leaving him floating in nothingness once again. Even the locket in his hand turned to smoke, blowing away into oblivion.

* * *

Sandy reluctantly pulled back the dreamsand; he couldn't keep it going any longer. It had started to slowly turn to black. His curiosity hadn't been sated; in fact it had only grown. The image that had floated above Pitch's head for the entire dream had been of a locket, but it had been closed and Sandy hadn't been able to see what was inside it. He was at a loss as to what it could mean. Mystified, Sandy gave a shake of his head and flew away, leaving Pitch to sleep on.

* * *

Pitch opened his eyes slowly, not immediately moving from his position. After a moment he sat up and looked around to confirm he was where he should be. The he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair.

Had that really just happened? Had he really just had a dream about his daughter, who he hadn't thought of in millennia? Had he really just had a dream, period? He hadn't thought that it was possible. He picked up a few glittering grains of sand from the ground around him and let them fall through his fingers.

"Sandman," he muttered bitterly.

So this was his doing. Planting a dream in his mind to make him weak, to make him think about things that weren't possible. Things like seeing his daughter or Kozmotis Pitchiner returning. Ha! Neither of those would ever happen. Both of those people were gone forever, and he wasn't going to let the Sandman's plan trick him into thinking otherwise.

Pitch stood up and strode deeper into the shadowy forest as the first light of day began to color the horizon. He was stuck deep inside his thoughts as he went.

He didn't notice the rustle of the leaves as he went by, like a quiet, longing sigh.

* * *

**So the request was to have Pitch reunited with his daughter, and this was the only way I could do it while still having it fit my vision of the world of RotG.**


	22. Remember

**This is one of my personal favorites.**

* * *

The little Burgess cemetery was covered in a blanket of snow, and everything was still. No animals scampered across the snow, no people stood among the graves. The headstones were faded and crumbling; the churchyard was so old it was all but forgotten. It was midnight, and the world hung in balance between the death of the old day and the birth of the new. To a casual passerby the cemetery would appear to be empty, but in fact it was not.

A certain winter spirit walked past the graves to the farthest, most secluded part. His feet made no imprint in the snow. With his pale skin and the glowing aura that hung around his shepherd's crook, he looked the picture of a ghostly apparition. But the real ghosts were not as substantial as he; they were little more than mist. They reached out to him, grasping at his arms and stroking his white hair. But their wispy limbs simply went right through him, no more effective than a gust of wind. They whispered unintelligible words in their attempts to be heard, to be seen, to be touched.

Jack tried to listen to them, tried to reach out to them, and tried to lessen their loneliness. But he could not understand their distant whispers, and when the ghosts realized this an expression of sadness would come over their phantom faces and they would float away, doomed to walk the earth as nothing but shadows of their former selves for who knew how long. Perhaps forever. Most people were afraid of the lost souls, but Jack realized that there was nothing scary about them. They weren't frightening. They were sorrowful.

But the spirit of the one Jack had come to visit was not among them; she was at peace. He sat down in front of a simple tombstone that read:

EMMA OVERLAND BURGESS

1705-1776

_Wife, mother, sister, and dear friend._

_Sleep on now, and take your rest._

The inscription was nothing fancy; it was short and sweet and eloquent. After all, she had lived in a much simpler time. But it told Jack so much: she had lived a long time, considering the life expectancy back then. She had gotten married, and to the son of the founder of the town at that. She had had at least one child, and she had been loved deeply by her friends. She had been happy, even without him.

It was times like these that Jack bitterly regretted not having his memories right from the start. Had he known she was his sister, things would have been different. He remembered seeing her back in his early days: the sad girl that he had hit in the face with a snowball. The sweet girl that was always trying to help everyone she could. The brave girl that stood up to the bullies. The happy girl that laughed at the pranks he pulled on the townspeople. The lonely girl that would sit crying by the lake and call his name.

Jack pulled out his tooth box from the pocket of his hoodie. He looked at his picture for a moment, the brown haired, maple eyed boy with the mischievous grin. He ran his finger down the length of the box and the dark cemetery dissolved away.

* * *

_It was springtime, and he was running through a flowering meadow with his sister and her friends. The boys wielded bows and fake arrows, had feathers in their hair, and were hollering battle cries. He leapt in front of them, blocking their path to his sister and the other girls._

_"Quick, my ladies! Run! I will protect you from the savage Indians to my last breath!" he cried in a bad British accent._

_The girls shrieked and disappeared into the tall grass. One of the little boys attacked him, but he swept him up with his staff and spun him around, sending him right back into the others. One fell, and both lay where they were, playing dead. Two other boys rushed towards him, but he swept the feet out from one and ducked under the swing of the other, grabbing his arm and forcing him to the ground. He gently tapped them with his staff and they, too, lay still. The last boy approached full speed, but Jack rolled out of the way and before the boy could turn to face him he found himself on the ground with a staff pointed between his eyes. With a soft tap, he sprawled out and played dead as well._

_Jack straightened up and stood over his "victims". But then, suddenly, another boy popped out of the grass and shot an arrow at him. It hit him on the chest and bounced off, but Jack reacted dramatically._

_"I'm hit!" he gasped, staggering around and clutching his chest. "Oh, 'tis a mortal blow!" He fell onto his back in a bed of flowers and reached a hand to the sky. "Tell the princess… I love her…" Then his hand dropped and his head rolled comically to the side, his tongue sticking out and his eyes closed._

_Jack heard a giggle from above him, and when he opened his eyes he saw Emma standing over him. He grinned at her when she said, "You're funny, Jack."_

_"Why, thank you, my lady," he said._

_Another voice came floating from across the meadow. "Jackson! Where are you? You must watch the sheep!"_

_"Whoops," Jack said, dropping the accent. He stood up and grabbed his staff before taking off across the meadow. "Coming, Father!"_

* * *

_It was summer, and he was sitting in the shade of a tree and enjoying the heat of the day. He closed his eyes, intent on drifting off. But then a voice thick with tears called to him._

_"Jack! J- Jack!" Emma cried._

_He opened his eyes to see her running towards him, tears streaming down her face. "What's wrong, Em?"_

_"It's the older boys in town," she sobbed. _

_"What about them?" he asked soothingly, gathering her into a hug._

_"They were talking about you and they- they said you never took anything seriously, and that you were always slacking off, and that you would never amount to anything, and I- I tried to say it wasn't true, but they just said that I was no better and that Pa couldn't even control his own children, a- and-"_

_"Woah, woah, slow down," Jack said lightly, even as he stiffened at her words. "Who exactly was saying this?"_

_"Joseph and Samuel."_

_"As in Joseph and Samuel Davenport?"_

_"Y-yes."_

_Jack laughed, surprising his sister. "Oh, those two. Don't listen to them, they're just jealous."_

_Emma's tears had stopped flowing, but she still sniffled as she said, "Jealous?"_

_"Yeah, they're just sore that they don't know how to have as much fun as we do. And they only wish they had a Pa as great and as kind as ours," he assured her._

_"Really?"_

_"Really."_

_She gave him a weak smile. "They were wrong when they said you would never amount to anything, Jack. I bet you're going to be something amazing."_

_"I sure hope so," he said._

* * *

_It was autumn, and he was huddled up against the fireplace. A thunderstorm raged outside. Wolves howled in the distance, the door rattled on its hinges with every deafening boom, and the lightning cast terrifying shadows that seemed like they were reaching for him, trying to pull him into the darkness. Emma sat closely to him, hiding her face in his cloak and whimpering with every new peal of thunder._

_"Jack," she whispered, almost too soft for him to hear. "Where are Mama and Pa?"_

_"They went to go make sure the sheep were all together," he replied. "They'll be back soon."_

_"Jack, today William Burgess was telling me a scary story," she said. "He said that there was a man that hid under beds and came in the dark to steal children away. He said that if he so much as touched you, you would die of fright. He said that one look could give you nightmares every night for the rest of your life. He said- he said his name was the Boogeyman."_

_There was a huge boom of thunder, and a sudden whoosh of wind came down the chimney, blowing out their weak little fire. They were suddenly plunged into an utter darkness filled with creeping shadows broken only by the occasional flashes of lightning. Emma shrieked and clutched his arm._

_Jack kept his voice calm, even though his heart was racing. "William Burgess has quite the imagination, to be able to make up a story like that. The Boogeyman? Psh, there's no such thing. And even if there was, he would have to get through this prime example of manliness if he wanted you." Jack held up his skinny arm and flexed his near non-existent biceps._

_Emma let out a frightened giggle. "What would you do against the Boogeyman?"_

_"I would whack him over the head with my staff," Jack said seriously._

_Emma laughed at that image, and she didn't sound scared when she said, "I guess you're right."_

_"Of course I'm right. Big brothers are always right."_

_He leaned over and lit up the fire again with a piece of flint, and the shadows retreated back to the dark corners where they belonged._

* * *

_It was winter, and he was sitting by the window and watching the snow fall. His breath misted on the window pane, and using his finger he traced little patterns of snowflakes into it. He shivered and pulled his cloak closer around him; the fire could not warm the entire house and it was chilly where he sat. _

_Emma walked over and sat next to him. Her voice was excited as she said, "Jack, can we go ice skating today?"_

_He looked at her skeptically. "I don't know Em... It's still early in the winter, and the ice might not be thick enough."_

_"Margaret went yesterday. She said it was fine, it didn't crack at all. Besides, you promised me we could go sometime."_

_"I did say that, didn't I?" he chuckled. "Oh, alright, why not." _

_"Yay!" she squealed, and went off to get ready._

_Jack found his skates in a box under his bed and threw them over his shoulder. He met Emma at the door, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him impatiently in the direction of the lake._

_"We're going skating, Ma!" he called out._

_"Be careful!" was her reply._

_He laughed. "We will!"_

_He looked back at his mother once more before letting Emma pull him away. He took a deep breath of the sharp, cold air and smiled._

_"Let's go have some fun."_

* * *

The scene dissolved away and Jack once more found himself in the dark, silent graveyard. He closed his eyes and thought of the face of his sister that showed up so often in his memories. For over 300 years he had not known that Emma was his sister- he had not even known her name. But now that he did, it felt like there was a part of his heart missing. For so long he had not been able to mourn for her, but he was making up for it now.

He pulled out a bouquet of flowers from his hoodie that he had taken from a vase in the little church. With a gentle touch of his fingers, the petals frosted over, preserving them and keeping them alive. The color of the petals could still be seen through the frost, so it gave them a sparkling iridescence. He set the flowers on the grave and stood up, leaning on his staff.

He bowed his head and whispered, "I miss you, Em."

* * *

**So I know that no one knows what Jack's sister's name is; I've seen Pippa, Rose, Emma, Elizabeth, and lots more, but I'm going to go with Emma.**


	23. Whose Gift?

**Set pre-movie.**

* * *

The village was alive with excitement these days, constantly humming with energy and laughter. The villagers were scarcely seen without smiles on their faces, and went around their business whistling and humming. The houses were decorated with wreaths of pine and holly, and mistletoe berries were hung in inconspicuous places, causing more than one unexpected kiss. Candles flickered in the windows when darkness fell, giving the entire town a cozy glow throughout the entire night.

Jack did not understand what exactly was causing this sudden change in the atmosphere, but by hanging around the children and listening to their conversations he soon found out. One of the older girls, perhaps sixteen years old, gathered the youngest ones around her one day and sat down and told them the story that explained everything.

A little boy said, "Mary, tell us about Santa Claus!"

The girl called Mary said, "Why, you've all heard the story hundreds of times."

"We want to hear it again!" he insisted. The other children joined him in a chant of, "Again! Again! Again!"

Mary laughed and said, "Oh, alright. Why not? It is nearly Christmas, after all."

Christmas? What was Christmas? And what was Santa Claus? Intrigued, Jack sat down among the children to listen. Mary settled onto a tree stump and smoothed out her skirts with her gloved hands before she began.

"Far away, in a huge workshop filled with toys of every make and model you can imagine, there lives a big, jolly man with a beard as white as snow. He has rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes and a merry, bellowing laugh that comes from his belly. He is always smiling, always laughing. And his name is Santa Claus. Santa Claus watches every child in every country of the world and keeps note of their behavior. He has two lists: the nice list and the naughty list. Those children who do good deeds and are obedient to their parents are on the nice list. But the children who are wicked and do not do their chores are on the naughty list." As she said this last part she gave a meaningful glance to the boy who had first spoken.

"What are you looking at me for?" he protested.

Mary smiled softly and shook her head before continuing. "Santa Claus lives in his workshop hidden deep within the snowy North Pole. He has thousands of elves that help him to make toys and gifts for the children on the nice list. For the children on the naughty list, he has a mine beneath the workshop where the elves mine coal. Tonight, the twenty-fourth of December, on Christmas Eve, the children of the world hang stockings above their fireplaces and go to sleep in their warm beds. Santa Claus saddles up his reindeer to his sleigh and with a giant sack of gifts visits each house. He comes down the chimney and fills the stockings, and in the mornings the nice children find toys and candy while the naughty ones find only coal."

Another little boy spoke up. "I'm going to stay up to see him!"

"He won't come unless you are asleep," Mary said. "But if you want to get on his good side it is a good idea to leave him a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. Santa Claus has quite the sweet tooth!"

"I'm so excited!" a little girl squealed.

Mary smiled at her. "Because of Santa's visit, Christmas is a very special time. It is a time of goodness and wonder, and everyone is filled with joy."

A different girl spoke up, "Almost everybody."

As a group they all turned to look at something. Jack turned too, and saw the one house that did not glow with the light of candles and an atmosphere of happiness. It had black curtains in the windows and a black ribbon on the door. A heavy aura of sadness hung about the place.

Mary's face turned dark and sad. "It has only been a year, and they are still in mourning. But Santa Claus will visit them all the same."

Jack spared the house a curious thought before turning back to the conversation.

A small, wispy girl tugged on Mary's skirt. When she looked down the girl asked in a timid little voice, "Have you ever seen Santa Claus?"

Mary smiled at her sweetly before picking her up and placing her on her lap. "No, he knows how to stay out of sight. But if you listen closely on Christmas Eve, you may be able to hear his jolly 'Ho, ho, ho!' ringing across the sky."

One of the boys said, "My mama said that she once saw the silhouette of his sleigh against the moon."

"Did she?" Mary asked. "How wonderful!"

A girl asked, "What do you want for Christmas, Mary?"

"I asked for cloth for a new dress," she answered.

"How dull," the outspoken boy said. "I asked for a sword!" He stood up and began whipping about an imaginary blade.

Mary laughed. "I don't think Santa Claus knows anything about swords. But you never know."

Another boy said, "I want a ball!"

A girl said, "I asked for a doll!"

More little voices chimed in, "I hope I get a toy horse!"

"I want candy!"

"I asked for new mittens!"

Mary smiled at their excitement. "Those are wonderful gifts."

The girl in her lap whispered, "I asked for a white Christmas."

"A white Christmas?" Mary repeated. She bit her lip. "Well, I don't think that Santa can control the snow…"

Jack snorted. "He can't. That's _my _job, thank you very much."

Nobody answered him. Not that he'd expected them to.

The timid girl on Mary's lap looked saddened, and Mary quickly recovered. "But maybe he could do it for you!" But she didn't look very sure.

"Don't worry," Jack said to the girl. "I can do that for you."

Mary looked at the sky that was beginning to darken. "Come on, everyone. Tonight is Christmas Eve, and you don't want Santa to skip your house just because you were still awake!"

The children left to go into their respective houses, and soon they were all in their beds. A few hours later and the adults all went to sleep as well. The village was silent, and the candles on the windows shone through the darkness. Jack went to work, frosting windows with a touch of his fingers and creating icicles that hung from the roofs. It started to snow, fast and steady and silent. Not too fast though; Jack wanted to meet this Santa Claus and he didn't want to make it too hard for the man's sleigh to fly.

A flash in the sky caught his eye, and when he looked up he saw a red flying sleigh emerge from a swirling colorful portal of some kind. It was accompanied by the sound of bells and the jolly laughter of the man who held the reigns. Jack shrank back to the shelter of the trees where he couldn't be seen and warily watched as the sleigh descended towards the village. It landed on one of the roofs close to him and the man, Santa Claus, jumped out.

Jack swallowed. He was much bigger and more intimidating than he had imagined, and his plans for confrontation went right out the window along with his courage. His people skills weren't exactly admirable, after all. And the fact that this Santa Claus had twin swords peeking out from his red coat wasn't encouraging. Santa Claus somehow descended down the chimney of the house with a huge sack, and after a few moments returned. He did this with all the houses before returning to the roof with the sleigh. Jack's mind was racing as he tried to figure out what to say before it was too late and he was gone, but it turned out he didn't have to say anything.

While still facing away from him, Santa Claus said, "Should you not be home, boy?"

Jack started. "Home?" The word escaped him before he could stop it. It felt strange and alien in his mouth.

"Yes," the larger man continued, turning to face the spot where Jack thought he remained hidden in the trees. "Your parents will worry for you."

"I don't have any parents," Jack said, stepping into view. "Unless you count the moon, which I don't."

The man's large, bushy eyebrows furrowed. "The moon? What-" But then he stopped once he got a good look at Jack. His eyes flickered up to the moon that hung above his head. "Oh. You are spirit."

"Spirit of Winter, actually. My name's Jack Frost."

"But you are just a child," the older man said in an incredulous voice.

For some reason this rubbed Jack the wrong way. "I'm not a child. I'm eighteen, actually."

The big man looked up at the moon again with something akin to pain in his eyes. "_Proklinayushchikh vas, _Manny."

Jack hadn't understood any of that last sentence, so he said, "Look, Santa Claus-"

"Just call me North. Is what my friends call me."

Friends. Was that what they were? But he had only just met the man. He did not even know whether to trust him. But still- _friends_. "North, then. I've heard the children talking about you. And I wanted to… well, to meet you." Might as well come right out and say it.

"Well, my friend, now you have. But I am afraid I cannot stay to chat. Must stay on schedule, you know." He jumped into his sleigh and with a snap of the reins took off.

Jack, startled by the sudden departure, shouted, "Wait!"

But North only looked back down and bellowed, "Merry Christmas, Jack Frost!" Then, with another flash of his portal, he was gone.

Jack stood there, ankle deep in his own snow. Alone, just like always. "Merry Christmas," he muttered.

Hours later, the village awakened and the sounds of children's delighted cries came from within the houses. The shy little child that had sat on the girl Mary's lap came out and stood in the still falling snow. Jack sat on his staff a short distance away, watching with a smile.

"A white Christmas!" the girl cried. She looked to the sky. "Thank you, Santa Claus!"

Jack's smile slipped. He had given this girl the very thing she had wanted for Christmas, and she attributed it to North. Just because he was better known and had stories told about him all over the world. This was _Jack's _gift; _he_ had made this snow fall for her. But she would never know. With a frustrated sigh, Jack jumped off his staff. He flew up out of the village and allowed the wind to take him wherever it wanted.

Maybe he would go give some other towns white Christmases. Perhaps then someone would recognize whose gift it _really_ was.

* * *

**There's some controversy about Jack's age when he died, I know. Apparently the movie app says he was 17, but William Joyce says he was 14. But I'm going to go with 17.**

**So, according to my headcanon that Jack was raised by the moon on the winter solstice (December 21) then at this time he would be technically 18, even if he's still physically 17. And the reason this is basically his first Christmas even though technically he's been Jack Frost for two is that the first one would be 4 days after his creation and so he would still be too disoriented to really register it.**

**Just thought I would clear all that up.**


	24. The Home Front

**Let's take a break from the sad and serious stuff, shall we?**

* * *

Jamie Bennett put his forehead down on his history book and groaned. Dates and names swirled around his head in a jumbled mess, giving him a pounding headache. He looked down at the words on the page, but in his exhausted state they were more like meaningless scribbles. Jamie didn't understand why he had to learn about the Civil War, anyway. I mean sure, it was a pretty important event, but wasn't this supposed to be part of the high school curriculum or something? Definitely not fifth grade stuff!

Jamie felt a cold breeze ruffle his hair, even though his window had been closed a second ago. He smiled, and turned his head to look towards the window. A very familiar winter spirit sat on the windowsill, having just entered the room.

"Hi, Jack," he said tiredly.

"Hey, kiddo," Jack greeted him with a grin. He moved from the window to Jamie's bed, perching on the headboard like a bird about to take flight. "Whatcha doing?"

Jamie sighed heavily. "Studying. Not that it has any purpose; everything just leaks out of my brain anyway."

Jack made a face. "That sounds boring. Let's go do something fun!"

Jamie laughed. Jack sounded just like an excited little kid. "Trust me, I would if I could, but I'm flunking history as it is. I need to pass this test or my mom is gonna kill me."

Jack frowned and leaned over to look at the history book. "The Civil War?"

"Yep," Jamie confirmed. "It's hard enough that I have to know all the battles and everything, but I have to memorize the Gettysburg Address too, and I suck at memorization. Why did they have to talk so fancy back then?"

Jack laughed. "Yeah, Abe Lincoln was a pretty good speaker. But you could tell that he wasn't really happy with the Gettysburg Address. He looked really unsatisfied during the whole thing, and afterwards he told one of his friends he thought it was one of his weaker speeches. Apparently he was the only one who thought so, though."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "And you know this how?"

Jack gave him a funny look. "I was there. Duh."

"Oh," Jamie said. "Of course. Silly me." Then an idea struck him and he looked at Jack in a new light. "Where you there for the entire Civil War?"

"I was around, yeah," Jack said.

"So you saw everything happen firsthand?"

Jack looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, I usually stayed away from the battles, but I guess so…"

"So you can help me with this!" Jamie said excitedly. "You can tell me what happened, and it will be much better coming from you than from some dusty old history book!"

Jack held up a hand to stop him. "Now hang on, I'm not an expert on this stuff."

"But you just said you were around for the whole war."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Are you an expert on everything that's happened in your lifetime?"

"Well… no," Jamie admitted.

"Exactly. And a _lot_ of history has happened in my lifetime, trust me."

Jamie's curiosity piqued. "What's it like, seeing so many amazing things happen right before your eyes?"

"It's… well, it's something," Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You have to remember there's more to history than just the amazing stuff, kiddo. I've seen humanity at its best, yes." Then his face darkened. "But I've also seen it at its worst."

Jamie had never seen such a hard expression on Jack's usually carefree face before. It unnerved him a little, so he tried to steer the conversation somewhere else. "You know, I might be able to go outside if I hurry and finish studying. It should only take about…" he looked at his desk that was covered in the huge history book and lots of papers and flashcards. "Well… a long time."

Jack groaned and flopped onto Jamie's mattress. "No one has time to do anything. The twins are out of town, Cupcake has ballet class, Monty has science club, and Pippa… well, I think Pippa's avoiding me for some reason."

Jamie gave him an amused glance. "You don't know?"

Jack looked confused. "Don't know what?"

Jamie laughed. "Pippa has a huge crush on you."

Jack sat straight up and his mouth dropped open. "What?!"

"Yeah," Jamie said, holding back his laughter. "You didn't notice? It's so obvious! She blushes whenever you're in the same room and she stares at you adoringly all the time and she can barely even talk to you without stuttering!"

Jack's cheeks and the tips of his ears colored a pale pink. "Hey, I don't have any experience with these types of things! How was I supposed to know?"

"Have you ever even kissed a girl?" Jamie asked, genuinely curious.

Jack's blush deepened. "That's besides the point."

Jamie grinned. "You haven't, have you?"

"I have too!" Jack said defensively. "I just… don't remember her name."

Jamie snorted. "That's kind of pathetic, dude."

Jack looked offended. "It was a _long_ time ago, okay? I'm sure I'll remember it eventually. My memories come back gradually." He paused, then, "But we're getting off topic. What am I supposed to do about Pippa?"

Jamie shrugged. "I don't know. Do you like her back?"

"No!"

"You sure?"

Jack glared at him. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm like, over three centuries older than her. And besides, she's just a friend. A believer. Do you think if I just do nothing everything will go back to normal?"

"If she's at the point where she's avoiding you then no, I don't."

Jack looked panicked. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Okay, well you could start by not freaking out," Jamie suggested.

"I'm not freaking out!"

"Dude, you totally are."

Jack gave him another glare and didn't respond.

"Why don't you go talk to her? Get it all out in the open."

"Would that work?"

"Maybe. I don't exactly have a lot of experience in this either."

Jack sighed. "You're no help."

"It's worth a shot," Jamie pointed out.

Jack stood up. "You know what? You're right. I'm gonna go talk to her." He flew over to the open window.

"Good luck, soldier," Jamie joked.

Jack gave him a mock salute in return and flew out the window. Jamie turned back to his history book with a small laugh.

The Civil War was nowhere near as interesting as this.

* * *

**Listening to Les Miserables movie soundtrack and wondering how the same guy who voices Bunny could possibly sing like that :)**

**I don't ship Jack and Pippa, by the way. I just wanted to do one with Jack getting sucked into everyday drama.**


	25. Blizzard of '68

**Because no collection of ROTG oneshots would be complete without it. Set pre-movie, obviously.**

* * *

Jack was angry; angry at himself, angry at the world, but mostly angry at Vera, the Spirit of Spring and his least favorite person in the world next to Pitch. In fact, sometimes he disliked her even more than Pitch. She seemed to hate him for no other reason than because he was the Spirit of Winter. Whenever he ran into her they got into fights, or rather full out brawls. Jack usually got the worst of it, because even though he strongly disliked Vera she was still a girl, and he was hesitant to fight a girl. Just today she had nearly killed him over the fact that he had brought a few inches of snow to the northeastern region of the States even though it was mid-April. The spirit had viciously long nails, but even the scrapes down Jack's arms didn't hurt as much as the venomous words that she had thrown at him in her deceptively sweet voice.

_Really, _he thought to himself. _I had no idea such an innocent-looking girl knew that sort of language._

He had gotten out of there as fast as he could, but he didn't intend to take it lying down. He planned to tick off Vera even more by giving the area a few more inches of snow; just enough to get the local kids out of school but not so much that it became dangerous. Hovering a few hundred feet above the city, he waved his staff so that the clouds thickened and weighed down with the weight of the snow. When it fell, it fell fast and thick. After a while he decided that it was enough.

But Jack's emotions were more out of whack than even he knew, and when he tried to cease the snowfall it only grew wilder. The wind grew stronger and the snow fell faster and Jack started to panic. He wasn't used to not being completely in control of his powers. Of course, adding panic to the roiling mess of feelings only made it worse, and soon he was in the middle of a fully fledged blizzard. The strength of the magic quickly depleted his energy supply, and he suddenly felt weak.

_This wasn't supposed to happen, _he thought in a panic. _It wasn't supposed to be this big!_

Jack could see the city below, buried in tons of snow that was only increasing. This was the kind of storm that caused accidents; this was the kind of storm that got people hurt. That wasn't what he wanted. But it was too late to stop it.

Dizziness suddenly swept over him, and black spots obscured his vision. The ground below him was spinning, and he was falling, falling, falling…

* * *

_We have a problem._

The stone golem's deep voice sounded in E. Aster Bunnymund's head. He turned to face it, and was alarmed to see its face turned onto angry mode.

"What kind of problem?" he asked nervously. He actually thought this Easter had gone off pretty well. The eggs had all been painted on time, there had been no invasions or attacks on the Warren, the Groundhog wasn't interfering with his tunnels, and the eggs were even now filing past towards the tunnels. Nothing seemed out of place.

_The North American tunnel is backed up. The eggs cannot get through to the Northeast United States._

"Why not?" he demanded.

_We do not know. That is why we came to you._

"Well, let me see for myself," he said. He sped towards the tunnels, and when he arrived he saw that the eggs were indeed gathered in a big mass around the North American tunnel. He peered into the tunnel and saw the portal that shimmered at the end of it was blocked by a huge wall of white. Was it… snow?

"Alright, mates," he said to his golems. "I'm gonna go check it out topside, so you stay and make sure everything else goes according to plan." With that he tapped his foot, opened a tunnel, and disappeared.

* * *

When Bunny's ears poked out of the ground, the first thing he registered was the unnatural stillness. It was springtime; he should have heard birds singing in the trees, the grass ruffling in the wind, and critters running across the ground. He should have heard the sound of traffic in the city and the shouts of children playing in the sunshine. But all he heard was silence.

The rest of his body emerged from the tunnel, and he froze at the sight that greeted him. Everywhere he turned, for as far as he could see- and Bunny could see quite far- there was snow. It was utter whiteness, not a speck of green in sight. The sky was flat and gray. The snow had obviously fallen recently, for it was undisturbed and there were no snow plows out yet in the city's streets. And Bunny had a pretty good idea of who was responsible. His eyes narrowed.

"Frost," he muttered.

This was exactly the sort of stunt the winter spirit would pull. Bunny had had many run-ins with the immortal teen, and none of them had ended in his favor. Often during his Easter deliveries he would slip on an icy patch that seemed to appear out of nowhere or get a face full of snow from some unknown assailant. He would catch a glimpse of the annoying trickster's smug smirk and hear his gloating laugh, but he never could catch him. He usually let him go; ushering in Easter was more important than extracting justice for a juvenile prank, anyway. But this was taking it too far.

Bunny did not have to search far to find Jack. He found him lying in a pile of snow, completely tuckered out from the effort it took to ruin Bunny's holiday. Not exactly in a kindly mood, Bunny woke him by kicking a shower of snow in his face.

Jack jerked up. "Hey! What the-" he stopped when he saw Bunny glaring down at him. "Oh. It's you. Bunnymund, right? What are you doing here?"

Bunny did not dignify him with an answer. Through gritted teeth he said, "What. Did. You. Do."

Jack stood up. "My job."

"Your _job_? So now your job is ruining other people's holidays?"

Jack's eyes widened. "Oh, right… Easter… that's today, isn't it?"

"Yes it's today! Just conveniently slipped your mind, didn't it?"

Jack looked out over the whitened landscape. "Well… At least the kids will get out of school."

"It's Sunday, you idiot!" Bunny exploded. "_Easter_ Sunday! They're out of school anyway!"

Jack glared at him. "Don't you think you're overreacting a little bit?"

"I wouldn't expect _you _to understand," Bunny growled. "You're a _winter_ spirit."

Jack's voice was hostile as he said, "What's _that_ supposed to mean, exactly?"

"Easter is during springtime, and it's about hope and life! About new beginnings!" Bunny shouted. "And winter- well winter is nothing but cold and despair and endings! Winter is death!" Jack flinched at his words, but Bunny continued relentlessly. "People die every winter because of it! People have died from your blizzards, including this one! People are DEAD!"

Jack's eyes blazed and Bunny braced himself for the explosion he knew was coming, but it didn't happen. Instead, all the energy seemed to leak out of the winter spirit. He leaned on his staff and his face sagged. The shadows that slanted across his usually youthful face made him look old and tired, as if he had lost his immortality and all his years were crashing down on him at once.

"You think I don't know that?" he asked softly. "You think I don't know what winter is and what it can do? You think I don't know exactly how many people have died because of it? You think I don't hate the fact? Do you think, possibly," his voice rose slightly, "That I _enjoy _it?"

Bunny refused to back down. "Whether you enjoy it or not is irrelevant. The fact remains that it happens because of _you. _Because of your- your careless attitude and your pathetic demands for attention! You're nothing but a useless, annoying _sprite_!"

The fire returned to Jack's icy blue eyes and he straightened. "You know what you are? An oversized, stuck-up rabbit! Are you some sort of genetic mutation? Because I've never seen anyone else like you. Or did the rest of your race just run and hide in their little rabbit holes when they saw your ugly face?"

Rage washed over Bunny in a hot, boiling wave. Without even thinking about it he pulled out a boomerang quick as lightning and pointed it between Jack's eyes. He got in his face and nearly spat,

"Don't you _dare _talk about things you know absolutely _nothing _about!"

Jack swatted away the boomerang and pushed Bunny back. "I could say the same for you."

Bunny gave him a long, venomous glare, and the two remained locked in an intense stare-off for at least ten seconds. Then he put his boomerang back in its holster and said, "Just leave, Frost. Go somewhere and stay out of my way while I try and clean up _your _mess."

With that Bunny turned and opened up a rabbit hole. He jumped down it without looking back; he didn't even want to _look _at Jack.

It would be 45 years before he saw him again.

* * *

**I called the Spirit of Spring Vera because it's short for primavera, which is Spanish for spring. Don't worry, those of you who are OC haters. She won't show up often.**

**Also, those of you who don't know, the reason Bunny got so upset at Jack's "where's the rest of your race" comment is because in the books his entire race except for him was wiped out in a battle with Pitch. Or at least that's what I was told. Still haven't read them myself.**


	26. Never to Know

**I just realized that the last chapter was chapter 25, which is a fourth of the way to 100! Yay! Thanks to all my followers and favoriters, special thanks to my reviewers, and especially special thanks to Destiel101, who has reviewed almost every single chapter!**

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It was early morning in the little wooden cabin. A little girl sat by the window, but she was not looking out at the big, snowy forest that surrounded the house. Instead, she gazed intently at the fernlike patterns that crisscrossed over the glass. She imagined she could see pictures in the frost, pictures of trees and flowers and fairies.

"Mama," she said to the woman that sat sewing by the fire, "Where do the pictures on the window come from?"

The woman stopped her sewing and looked up. "You know, I once asked my mama the same thing. And she told me a story, an old wives' tale."

"A story about what?" the girl inquired.

The girl's mother smiled. "About Jack Frost."

The child's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Jack Frost," the woman repeated. "My mother told me that he comes in the night, while everyone is asleep. He's a little man dressed all in white; his coat is white and his mittens are white and his fur-lined boots made of deer-skin that go up to his knees are white, and his cap sparkles with frost.. He does not carry a gun during his wanderings like your Papa does, but he has tools of shining ice that he uses to carve the pictures on the windows."

"What else does he do?" the curious girl asked.

"They say he is the bringer of the snow and the ice that covers the trees in the wintertime," her mother answered. "But they also say it is best to stay away from him. He is a mischievous spirit and if you touch him you will catch a cold, or perhaps even frostbite."

The girl tilted her head. "Would he do that?"

The woman shrugged. "I do not know. That is simply what the stories say. And they are just stories, after all."

The girl turned back to the window and used her finger to trace patterns in the frost. "The pictures he makes are pretty."

"Yes," the woman agreed absentmindedly, going back to her work. "Such a shame they melt when the sun rises."

Indeed, the frost was melting now; it dripped down the windowpane like rain as the sun's rays pierced the gloom of the forest.

That night, the little girl snuck out of her warm bed and tiptoed to the window. She wanted to see Jack Frost for herself, and she was willing to stay up to do it. She stared out the window into the black forest with eyes wide open in expectation.

But soon her eyelids drooped and she rested her head on her arms. She was only five, after all, and she had never stayed up so late before. She was awfully tired, but as she stifled a yawn she told herself that she only had to wait a little longer. Just a little bit longer. But surely it would be all right if she rested her eyes for just a moment…

The girl was fast asleep on the windowsill when the frost crept up the window. Had she been awake, she would have seen the pale hands pressed up against the glass and the bittersweet smile of the boy who owned them. The sudden chill in the air caused her to murmur in her sleep, but she did not open her eyes. The boy on the other side of the glass finished frosting the window. With a final longing glance inside the cozy little home, he turned and flew off, never to know that the thing he so wished for had been mere inches away.

Inside the house the girl stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled at the frost that covered the window, yawned, blinked once, and fell back asleep to dreams of snow on the treetops.

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**This was inspired and kind of based on the very brief mention of Jack Frost in Laura Ingalls Wilder's ****_Little House in the Big Woods._**** It is the only reference to him that I have ever read (and remember) in an actual published book.**


	27. Once Upon a December

**I wasn't planning on updating today but I got inspired, so consider yourselves lucky :) Set before the movie. ****Song to listen to while reading this: ****_Once Upon a December_**** from the movie ****_Anastasia. _It works, trust me.**

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Hidden deep in the mountains of a secluded country there was an old, abandoned castle. It had towering spires and grand windows and tall, vaulted ceilings. It had once been the summer home for the royal family of the country, but time had passed and things had changed. The citizens of the country grew rebellious, and the monarchy was overthrown and replaced with something different- though not necessarily better. The royal family no longer existed and the castle was forgotten, still filled with the luxuries of another time. The inside was dusty and silent and eerily untouched, as if its inhabitants had only just left and the castle was waiting for them to return.

This was the way Jack discovered the castle one December: sealed away in the snow capped mountains and holding an atmosphere of lonely expectation. He wandered through its empty halls and marveled at everything. He dug his bare toes into the rich carpet and ran his hands across the silken tapestries. He peered into bedrooms and discovered mementos of the people who had lived in them. And every time he passed a window he would stop and frost it over, then draw a little image in it and bring it to life.

This was a relatively new ability that Jack had discovered, and he enjoyed the company of the little frost creatures, at least until they burst into snow. He made animals that he encountered in the wild every day like birds and rabbits as well as beings of legend such as dragons and unicorns. He laughed as they flew around him in playful circles.

Jack continued to explore the old castle, and soon he discovered a pair of gigantic wooden doors. He leaned into them and grunted as he put all his strength into opening them. With a loud groan the wood finally gave way, and Jack stepped into the room before him.

He found himself at the top of a grand sweeping staircase that widened as it descended. It led to a dusty marble floor that Jack knew had probably once been kept well polished. The ceiling was high, and several crystal chandeliers hung from it. The walls were painted with patterns in silver, red, and gold. The room was dark, for long curtains obscured the tall windows. But even through the gloom Jack could tell that this had once been a ballroom, a place full of music and laughter and figures moving in a rhythmic dance.

Jack went over to the windows and pushed aside the heavy curtains, letting the wintry sunlight filter in. The windows reached all the way up to the ceiling, providing a magnificent view of the snowy mountains outside. Jack smiled as he frosted each one, thinking of all the snow animals he could make. But just as he was about to trace the images on the cold glass, an idea struck him. He could do as he usually did and create a forest full of woodland creatures, or…

Imagination blossoming, Jack drew in the ice with a new image in mind. He went to each window and traced the shapes. Then he bent slightly and curled his hands in a gesture that beckoned the figures to come free of the glass. The shapes glowed, and one by one peeled themselves away from the window and gathered around Jack. Soon he was surrounded by a crowd of luminous, translucent ice people.

There were women dressed in sparkling ball gowns, hair done up in the finest styles and bashful giggles hidden behind delicate fans. There were men clad in embroidered suits, dashing smiles on their faces and swords in gilded holsters. In the corner there were even musicians with violins and harps and other musical instruments. They took up their bows and began to play. As they did so, the chandeliers lit up with cold blue flame and the icy figures partnered up and began to dance. As they spun and twirled they left trails of pale blue light in their wake, and even the music that came from the orchestra spread throughout the room in the form of blue tendrils.

Jack bowed to an ice girl on his right and held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

She laughed, an echoic and distant sound. "But of course, Prince Frost."

Jack grinned. "Prince Frost. I like that."

He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and pulled her into a spin. Soon they were gliding across the ballroom floor among the ghostly people. Jack's cape billowed around him with every movement, and this combined with the crystalline blue light that intertwined with his figure made him look majestic and otherworldly, as if he were indeed the prince of some magical, icy kingdom.

Jack didn't know how he performed the dance without mistake, but it seemed to come to him without effort. Mid-song he smoothly switched partners with one of the ice men, who acknowledged him with a smile and a nod. Jack returned it and spun away with his new partner.

"Lovely evening, isn't it?" he remarked.

"Oh yes, Prince Frost. Mostly because you are here."

He switched partners again, and smiled at the girl with whom he now danced.

"I do hope you're enjoying yourself," he said politely.

"Why, of course, my prince! How could I not? After all, what girl could be so lucky as to have a dance with Jack Frost himself? I am honored!"

Jack continued to move through the room with ethereal grace until he had danced with every one of the ice girls. All of them had a kind word or adoring smile to offer him, and all the ice men gave him friendly grins or brotherly claps on the shoulder. But everything- every word, every smile, every note of music- seemed cold and faraway, and Jack knew he couldn't keep the illusion going much longer.

The music ended, the cold fire in the chandeliers went out, the trails of blue light that filled the room faded, and with one final bow Jack's fantasy burst into a gentle shower of snow, leaving him alone in the empty ballroom once more.

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**I didn't realize until after I wrote this how similar it was to chapter 7, but I figured I might as well post it anyway. **


	28. The Beginnning

**The next few will be re-writes of specific scenes from the movie, only eith more insight into specific characters' thoughts and feelings.**

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At first there was nothing. No light, no sound, no feeling. There was only the darkness, stretching on forever in every direction.

But then there was something: a cold that he first felt in the tips of his fingers and his toes and that quickly spread until it was everywhere. The darkness still hadn't lessened, and as the cold spread it brought with it fear. Fear that he was trapped there, fear that he would always be like this, fear of what might be lying in wait in the darkness. Fear because he didn't know where he was, or how he got there, or even _who _he was. He tried to remember, but he grew even more scared when there _was_ nothing to remember; there was only this moment, cold and alone and afraid.

But then something changed. A light, white and pure, shone through the dark. After staring at it for a moment he realized that it was not just a light; it was the moon. He was struck by how very big and how very bright it was. Suddenly the darkness didn't seem so threatening any more, and the cold he felt faded away- or maybe he was just getting used to it.

He became aware that he was moving upward through- was he in water? Yes, he realized he was, for as he broke the surface pieces of ice fell around him and he took a gasping breath of cold, biting air that almost hurt his lungs. He blinked, clearing some of the water out of his eyes, and for the first time he could see the moon clearly. He gazed at it, transfixed. Some part of him registered that he was floating in midair, but that was not the strangest thing. The strangest thing was the voice that sounded in his head.

_Your name is Jack Frost._

Without knowing how he knew, he understood the voice was the moon speaking to him. He waited for it to say more, but it stayed silent. Slowly, he drifted down to the surface of the lake he had just risen out of, and the broken ice sealed beneath his feet. He looked down at his pale hands and touched the brown cape accented with frost that he wore. Then he stared up at the moon again, wondering what was happening and why. His unspoken questions rattled around his head as he looked at the wintry forest that surrounded the frozen lake.

He took a step forward, catching his balance as he slipped on the smooth ice. Being more careful, he continued moving forward while still gazing at the woods in awe. His foot touched something rough and wooden and he jumped back a little bit, startled. When he looked down he saw the object was a long staff that curved at the end like a shepherd's crook. Curious, he nudged it with his toe again and was surprised when it glowed blue.

His brow furrowed as he crouched down and picked up the staff. It sparked with ice, and he instinctively threw up a hand to protect his face. One end of it clattered against the ice, and fernlike patterns of frost spread out from the tip.

_Woah…_

He picked up the staff again and looked at it anew, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. Now this was weird. But, at the same time, it was… amazing. He went over to a tree and gently tapped the trunk with the staff. Just as before, frost grew in a curling pattern from the spot where it had touched. He put his hand on the tree and watched the frost with his mouth hanging open in awe. He turned to another tree and touched that with the staff too, with the same results.

His face split into a grin and he bounced on the balls of his feet as excitement bubbled up inside him, not unlike the excitement of a child with a new toy. He laughed and ran across the lake, trailing the staff behind him. In his path grew a trail of frost, and as he slipped and flailed wildly the pattern spread out in every direction. He regained his balance and went spinning away, admiring the icy designs. It was beautiful, it was incredible, it was so much _fun._ He ran across the ice with his arms out wide, reveling in the thrill of it. He went as fast as he could, until he felt like he could take off from the ground.

_It feels like flying, _he thought.

And then, all of a sudden, a sudden burst of wind swept him off the ice and shot him into the air. He cried out in alarm as he spun uncontrollably. He spread out his arms in an effort to balance himself, and he had a moment of calm as he looked down at the frost covered lake before the wind stilled and he dropped like a stone. He yelled as he fell through a tree, hitting one, two, three, four, five branches before he managed to get hold of one and cling on for dear life. Slowly he pushed himself up, laughing partly from enjoyment, partly from fear, and partly because he wasn't entirely sure he was sane right now.

What _is happening?_

Something in the distance caught his eye, and when he looked closer he saw lights and heard snatches of music. Lights meant a town, and a town meant people. People, that was what he needed. Someone to talk to, someone to explain everything to him, someone with whom he could share the amazement at the magical glowing staff that seemed to be able to create frost and to allow him to fly. Although he wasn't entirely sure how that last part worked…

_Um… I would like to fly to the village… please?_

Another gust of wind scooped him up and he was flying none too steadily towards the little town. He yelled out as he repeatedly almost lost his balance, but finally managed to land clumsily just outside the village, his feet slipping out from under him and his cloak flipping over his head. He popped up and laughed, brushing snow off his cloak as he strode jauntily into the town. Several people almost ran into him, and he backed up with a hand raised in greeting.

"Hello. Hello!"

No one responded. He thought that was a little rude, but he was not to be put off. He went over to another woman.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said politely. No answer. "Ma'am?"

_What is up with all these people?_

A bark of a dog drew his focus to a boy running straight towards him. "Oh, uh, excuse me," he said to the boy. "Can you tell me where I am?" He crouched down slightly in the boy's path so that he was at his height. He expected the boy to stop before he ran into him and answer his question.

That wasn't what happened.

The boy ran straight through him. _Through _him! It was brief, but it felt as if his molecules had been ripped apart and put back together, and it was accompanied by a wrenching pain in his gut and a pang in his heart. The boy continued on, oblivious to the impossible thing that he had just done.

He straightened up, gasping in shock. His eyes widened and he took a step backwards, right into the path of another person who also walked through him, and another, and _another_.

"Hello?" he cried out in desperation. "Hello!"

But nobody answered him. Nobody answered him. His mind and heart raced at a frightening pace as he tried to process what was happening. Slowly he backed out of the village, staring in disbelief at all the people who couldn't see him, they couldn't see him, _why couldn't they see him_? He put his hand on his chest, half in an effort to calm his heartbeat and half to assure himself that he was still there, whole and tangible. He didn't understand. He could touch him, so why couldn't they?

_I'm dead, _he thought. It was the only explanation. _I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead…_

He was a ghost, an apparition, a phantom. He was no more tangible than water vapor, and even more invisible. He had no meaning, no purpose other than to haunt the earth forever. He was nothing.

Or… was he?

As he turned and walked deeper into the forest he held up his staff to eye level and observed the soft glow of magic- he was sure that was what it was. It couldn't be coincidence that he had found it; magic never was. Which meant it had been given to him for a reason. A reason that he did not know, but somebody did. He looked up at the huge full moon that loomed overhead.

_Your name is Jack Frost, _it had said. It had given him a name, so it must have given him a purpose. It had all the answers to all his questions, he just knew it.

"Why?" he whispered. The moon did not answer. And he had the strangest feeling that even if he stood here and waited for hundreds of years, it never would. He had to figure this out for himself.

And so Jack ventured further into the forest to find his place in the world. He had magic on his side, but all magic comes with a price. And Jack had yet to discover how heavy that price was.

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**The scenes I'm planning on doing: the loss of Easter, Antarctica, and Jamie believes. If you have any others you would like let me know and depending on which scene it is I might use it.**


	29. Night Without Dreams

**I do love writing from North's perspective.**

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North woke with a start. He blinked wearily and looked around, confused as to why he, Bunny, and Tooth were all lying around in this little bedroom. And why was Bunny cuddling with his arm? He looked down at the brown haired boy that was asleep on the bed, and everything came rushing back.

_Ah, yes. Pitch. Collecting the teeth. Jamie. Right._

But where were Sandy and Jack?

He sat up and shook Bunny off his arm. "Wake up, Bunny."

The pooka's eyes snapped open. "Dancing carrots!" he blurted out.

North looked at him, confused. "What?"

Bunny coughed. "Nothing."

North shrugged and reached down to the floor where Tooth lay and nudged her gently. "Wakey wakey, Toothy."

Tooth opened her eyes blearily. "Huh?" She rose off the ground and yawned, looking around the room. "Wait- where's Jack? And Sandy?"

"I was just wondering that," North replied. "Come, let us go find them."

He grabbed a still drowsy Bunny by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out the window, Tooth following. They landed in the front yard of the house where the sleigh waited and piled in. North had the vaguest feeling that he was missing something, but when he saw flashes of gold, black, and blue not far in the distance he shook off the feeling. With a snap of the reigns the reindeer lifted off and steered in that direction.

The sleigh slammed against an iron fixture on a building and North jolted awake again. Strange, he hadn't even realized that he'd fallen asleep. He regained control of the sleigh again as Tooth was thrown into the back seat with Bunny. He quickly assessed the situation, seeing Jack and Sandy taking to the sky amidst a cyclone of nightmares. Tooth flew off the sleigh to help, her razor sharp wings deadly weapons against the dark creatures. Bunny jumped off as well, landing on a building and throwing boomerangs with all the skill of the seasoned warrior he was.

North stood on the front of the sleigh and drew his twin swords with a hearty laugh. It had been a _long_ time since he had had some real battle action and, well, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He slashed through nightmare after nightmare, grinning like a madman.

_This_ старик_ still has got it!_

Bunny jumped back in the sleigh, and Jack landed with a thud on one of the wings. North glanced up at the sky and saw Sandy standing alone, the golden eye in a black hurricane of nightmares. Jack leaned next to him, speaking his thoughts.

"We gotta help Sandy!"

_And we shall, _he thought. With another snap of the reigns he urged the reindeer to go faster. He looked back up at Sandy again, just in time to see the unthinkable happen.

Pitch rose up behind Sandy, who was completely unaware. He pulled back a nightmare arrow and aimed it at Sandy… and released it.

There was a moment of breathless silence as the arrow sped through the air, too quickly to stop, too quickly to call out a warning, too quickly to do _anything _at all. Everything seemed frozen in time- everything, that is, but the arrow that continued to fly towards Sandy, wickedly fast and yet agonizingly slow.

And then it hit.

It hit, and the spell was broken.

"NO!" Jack screamed from North's side. He jumped off from the sleigh, speeding as fast as he could to where Sandy stood, already starting to succumb to the dark sand. North tried to get the sleigh to go faster, just a bit faster, _didn't this damned thing go any faster?_

Tooth tried to take off and fly to Sandy, but a horde of nightmares surrounded the sleigh and she couldn't get any farther. Feeling so utterly useless, all they could do was watch as gold slowly turned to black. Jack was their only hope now.

"Hurry! Hurry, Jack!" North urged him.

Jack flew closer and closer, but North suddenly knew with heavy certainty that he wouldn't make it. He could hear Pitch's jeering far above, but it didn't really register because there was only a little bit of gold left. Then there was a flash, and Sandy- his ally, his fellow Guardian, his _friend_- was gone.

_Gone._

"Sandy," North whispered. A heavy wave of profound sadness washed over him, accompanied by shock and disbelief. Sandy couldn't be gone- he _couldn't_! Sandy was the best of them, the oldest, the most powerful, the wisest, the kindest. He was always there when you needed him, with a gentle smile and a happy dream. North's life was very hectic, and he always looked forward to those rare moments of peaceful dreams. But now- now that was gone.

But North had almost no time to process this horrible turn of events, because now Jack was yelling with renewed anger and rushing up towards Pitch, and Pitch was raising his arms, and the entire army of nightmares was speeding towards Jack in a massive wave, and Jack looked so awfully _small, _and he was being swallowed up by the darkness, and North was struck by the dreadful thought that they were going to lose _another one…_

But then something happened. Jack was somehow, impossibly holding the nightmares at bay, his entire body crackling with an aura of bright, sparking blue. North watched in awe as the winter spirit brought his hands together and-

_BOOM_

The light shot out from him and spread rapidly through the wave of nightmares, turning them all to ice the moment it touched them. North had never seen anything like it, and he had been around a very long time and had seen a lot of things. The frozen nightmares suddenly exploded, sending Pitch hurtling to the ground. North was forcibly reminded of fireworks as the pieces of ice and sand fell to earth. But they were not the only things that were falling. Jack, too, plummeted through the air.

"Jack!" he called out. Jack was unconscious, and for a terrible moment North was sure he was dead. Whatever he had just done must have taken a lot of magic, and as North knew using too much magic at once could drain all his energy, which would be fatal.

But then Tooth flew out and caught Jack, setting him down gently in the sleigh. North was relieved when the spirit sat up, albeit with some effort. Then Tooth spoke the question on all of their minds.

"Jack, h-how did you do that?"

Jack struggled to catch his breath. "I- I didn't know I could…" He looked at his staff with a mixture of wonder and maybe even a little bit of fear.

As Tooth continued fussing over Jack, North shared a meaningful look with Bunny. Things were starting to make more sense now.

North had to admit that he had been surprised by Manny's choice for a Guardian. He had expected someone grand, someone powerful, maybe even someone imperious. He had not expected the carefree little winter spirit that Bunny was so often complaining about, the one who enjoyed pulling pranks and starting snowball fights, the one who spent his days flying wherever the wind took him and who had little sense of responsibility. The one who was a mere boy in every sense of the word.

But after witnessing such an impressive display that apparently Jack had not even _meant_ to do, North realized that perhaps Jack was more powerful than even he himself knew. With all the strength of winter at his command, just imagine the things he could do…

But that was not the most important thing right now. North reached for his snow globe and frowned when it was not there. Normally this would make him upset, but it seemed such a trivial thing now. He pulled out a spare one and activated it, and soon they were zooming through a portal to the sky above the North Pole.

No one spoke, and the silence was deafening. It seemed as if there was a gaping, ragged hole in their midst that was usually filled with the warm presence of Sandy. The little man had never been very outspoken- which was understandable, seeing as he couldn't speak- but North had not realized until now how much they all relied on him to always be there.

He heard a sniffle, and he glanced back to see Tooth, who was staring straight ahead with tears rolling down her face. She bit her lip, clearly attempting to hold back her cries. It did not work, and with a strangled sob she buried her face in her feathered arms, her shoulders shaking. Bunny looked to be in a state of shock, because his eyes seemed to be slightly glazed over and his face was slack. He seemed to come out of his haze for a moment; just enough to place a comforting paw on Tooth's arm. Jack was huddled in the farthest corner of the sleigh, as far away from the rest of them as he could get. He looked somewhat sick, or at least the part of his face that North could see beneath his hood. When the sleigh landed he immediately jumped out and flew off to some secluded part of the Pole. None of them tried to follow.

The yetis seemed to sense something was wrong, because though the sleigh launching room was full of them everything was utterly silent except for the huffing of the reindeer and the soft tinkle of bells from the elves that ran obliviously about.

Bunny turned to him. "What… what do we do now?" he asked, his voice husky.

Tooth lifted her head at his words, staring at North with eyes still brimming with tears. They both wore lost expressions and looked at him with expectation.

What North really wanted to do was lock himself in his private office and turn up his classical music full force, drowning out the world and all its troubles. He wanted to bury himself in his work so that he was too busy to think about the hole in his heart and the worry about the battle that was clearly not going to be so easily won. But he knew he could not.

_You cannot give up now. You are leader, no? So lead. _

"We will regroup, and then we will keep fighting," he said fiercely. "We will not let Pitch go unpunished; we will not let him win. We will do it for- for Sandy."

Tooth sniffed once more and wiped away her tears. She rose off the ground, her wings humming. "For Sandy."

Bunny straightened and lifted his chin. "For Sandy."

North nodded solemnly. "For Sandy," he repeated.

The trio climbed out of the sleigh and walked through the massive wooden doors into the Pole.

"But there is something we must do first," North said. Bunny and Tooth looked at him and nodded agreement.

"Phil!" he called out to his head yeti. Phil snapped to attention. "Make preparations."

Phil warbled something that to anyone else would sound like gibberish, but North understood.

_Preparations for what, sir?_

"For a funeral," North answered. "A funeral for the Guardian of Dreams."

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**I felt sad just writing this :( No, Sandy!**


	30. Lost Hope

**Technically this is the second update today, since I put the last one up at one in the morning. I should really stop staying up so late. (Yeah right)**

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Bunny's heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds as he watched the children from his hiding spot. He saw their disappointed faces, the way they hung their heads and trudged slowly out of the park, and the excited light in their eyes that dimmed and went out when they realized there was nothing to be found. The sound of empty baskets thudding hopelessly to the ground was deafeningly loud in his ears.

"There aren't any eggs."

"There's nothing here."

"I give up."

"C'mon, let's go."

"I don't understand."

"Maybe he just hid them really well this year?"

Bunny stood up as panic swept through him. He rummaged through the basket of messed up eggs that normally would never make the cut, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And he couldn't just sit here and _let_ this happen.

"Kids, wait!" he called, bounding out of the bushes.

"I looked everywhere. There's nothing," a boy was saying.

"Yes there is, there is!" He held out the basket, smiling at him. "I mean these aren't my best looking googies, but they'll do in a pinch!"

A girl jumped off her spot on a picnic table. "I can't believe it."

Bunny turned to her. "I- I know," he laughed with giddy relief. She must be shocked to see the Easter Bunny standing right before her eyes-

"There's no such thing as the Easter Bunny," she finished.

Bunny's stomach dropped and his smile slid off his face. "What?"

She and the boy started to walk away. "No! Wrong! Not- not true!" he said desperately. But they kept going, not responding at all. "I'm right- I'm right in front of you, mate!" He turned to another boy, standing in his path with an egg held out. But he just kept walking.

Right through Bunny.

And it _hurt_.

It hurt in his gut

And it hurt in his heart

And it hurt in his soul.

Bunny breathed heavily as the realization came crashing down and a ringing sound filled his ears.

"They don't see me." His voice lowered to a whisper and he curled in on himself, seeking some shred of comfort as he felt the hope of each and every one of the children wink out, felt it in his very center. "They don't see me…"

Tooth flew over to him and gently touched his shoulder. She said nothing, and Bunny didn't try and push her away. She understood how he was feeling; after all, she had lost most of her believers, too. He welcomed her presence.

On some level Bunny was aware that North was speaking, but not to him; to Jack. He knew he should probably care that Jack had returned, but he really didn't. He had left, and this had happened. Tooth flew over to join North, leaving Bunny alone with the mantra that repeated over and over in his head.

_They don't believe They don't believe They don't believe They don't believe…_

But then North said something to Jack, four words that brought Bunny out of his numb state of shock and into a whole new state of red hot fury.

"You were with _Pitch_?"

And now a flame of rage was roaring inside of Bunny and he was being controlled by some part of him that was fueled by that fire as he stood up and strode over to where Jack stood, facing away from him. Jack, the one who had abandoned them. Jack, the one whose fault it was that hope had been lost. Jack, the one who they had given a chance, who they had _trusted_. Jack, the traitor.

"He has to go," Bunny said, his voice hard and cold and merciless.

Jack whirled around, eyes wide. "What?"

"We should _never_ have trusted you!" he yelled, his anger rearing like a beast inside him. He raised a fist, the beast egging him on.

But then Jack stumbled back, nearly tripping in his haste to get away from Bunny, his blue eyes wide with pure, unadulterated fear. And it was this fear that brought Bunny back to his senses.

What was he doing? He had been about to hit a _child._ An immortal child, yes, an annoying one, and a traitorous one, but a child all the same. And that- that went against _everything _that Bunny stood for. He dropped his fist, his anger leaking out of him and the hollow feeling of hopelessness replacing it.

"Easter is… new beginnings. New life," he said. "Easter is about hope. And now it's gone."

He sighed heavily and gave Jack one sad, final, glance. Then he turned and walked away, crouching back down in the grass. There was only silence to be heard behind him, the silence of disappointment and lost hope and grief. Then there was a rustle of leaves blown about by the wind that carried Jack away.

Bunny's anger was fading now, and he was able to realize why he had been so upset in the first place. Yes, he was mad that Jack had left them- left them to go talk to _Pitch_, at that- but he knew that was not the core of it.

He was angry because, when that boy had walked through him- something that had not happened in so long that Bunny had forgotten how horrible it was- and when his yells to be seen had fallen upon deaf ears, he had gotten a pretty good idea of what it was like to be Jack.

And it was terrible.

A sudden feeling of vertigo crashed down on him, and he clenched his eyes shut as his stomach churned. When he opened them again the world seemed… off. Everything was a whole lot bigger than it had been a moment ago. A loud buzzing noise made him jump, and when he looked up he saw Tooth, who all of a sudden had become ten times taller.

"Oh, Bunny…" she said sadly. She reached down and gently picked him up, and when Bunny got a glimpse of himself in her eyes he realized the truth. Everything else had not gotten bigger; he had gotten smaller. The loss of belief had taken its toll.

North clomped over, his heavy boots sounding much louder than usual. "Ah, Bunny, my friend…" He shook his head ruefully before placing a large hand on Tooth's thin shoulder. "We must get back to the Pole. We have to see if there are any lights left on the globe." She nodded and, still carrying Bunny, followed North away.

An empty basket rolled through the grass on a gust of wind, like a tumbleweed in an empty, desolate wasteland.

* * *

**The thing about this scene that always gets me is the way Jack has just come back from having his mind messed with and then Bunny just goes and confirms his worst fears that Pitch was just taunting him about without even meaning to.**


	31. Better to Be Alone

**And with that last chapter we have finally reached 100 reviews! You guys are amazing and beautiful, I never thought that so many people would read this and would actually like it. So here, have a chapter that was insanely enjoyable to write. I hope you like it :)**

* * *

Pitch stood in the barren snowy landscape, a stark contrasting shadow against the blinding white snow. He stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the figure upon an outcropping of rock. He watched as the figure, wracked with guilt and indecision, tried and failed to throw the little golden box that contained his memories into the glacial sea.

He knew how Jack was feeling right now: guilty and angry and unwanted and hurt. And that was exactly what Pitch had planned. And now, at Jack's most vulnerable moment, he would strike. A few choice words were all it would take, and then victory would be his.

He had witnessed the extraordinary feat that Jack had performed in their earlier battle, and that act of raw power made Pitch realize he had underestimated the boy. It had also occurred to him that with Jack's power on his side, there was nothing that could stop him. Winter was the most destructive and the darkest of all the seasons, after all. And winning Jack's loyalty would be a double strike; he would take one from the Guardians' ranks while at the same time adding one to his own.

All it took were the right words. Pitch paused for a moment, choosing those words carefully, and then he spoke.

* * *

Jack made a frustrated noise as he dropped the arm that held his memory box to his side. He wanted to be rid of it, rid of the thing that had caused him so much misery. But he just… couldn't.

Why couldn't he just throw it away? One simple motion, and he would be free of the burden. Why did he really need these memories, anyway? He'd gone three hundred years without them and had never missed them.

_You can't miss what you didn't know you had, _some voice in the back of his mind spoke up.

And that was definitely true. Jack had just assumed he had always been this way- he'd never imagined that he was ever anyone else. But now…

He looked down at the picture on the box of the brown haired boy with the russet eyes and the cocky smile that looked achingly familiar and yet so completely different. That was not him… that was a young, innocent boy with memories of things that Jack had never dared hope for, never imagined he could have.

_They can be yours, too, _the picture seemed to whisper. _Just look inside._

Jack dropped his arm to his side and quietly sighed. He stared out across the frigid waters, feeling hopelessly lost. But then his eyes widened as an unexpected and very unwelcome voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I thought this might happen."

Jack did not turn around, thinking that perhaps if he ignored him then Pitch would go away. But that proved harder than he expected as Pitch continued.

"They never really believed in you. I was just trying to show you that."

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe that, after all he'd done, Pitch had the _nerve_ to come here and talk to him as if he was only there to help, as if _Jack_ was the one being unreasonable.

"But I understand," Pitch said calmly.

These were the words that, despite his better judgment, caused him to spin around and hurl a blast of ice directly at Pitch, all his hurt and anger and loneliness rising to the surface in a turbulent storm of feelings.

"You don't understand _anything_!" he yelled, running down the slope.

No one understood, no one knew what he went through every single day, no one was as familiar with the desolation, the loneliness, the despair, no one _cared_ enough to understand…

Pitch summoned some of his dark sand into a shield against the ice. "No?" He counterattacked, throwing masses of nightmare sand at Jack that he dodged and blocked with more bursts of frost and ice. "I don't know what it's like to be cast out?"

With a battle cry Jack leaped into the air and sent another blast at Pitch, and it was met with a wave of black sand. They collided in midair, and Jack turned around and around, searching for the dark figure among the haze of settling ice and sand. Through the tinkling noise of the falling debris he heard his voice just behind him.

"To not be believed in?"

Jack turned and faced him, his staff held out threateningly and his expression one of anger.

Pitch's voice softened, and his countenance was pained. "To long for… a _family_?"

Those words hit Jack hard. His hostile expression melted away and his tight grip on the staff lessened as he stared at Pitch.

"All those years in the shadows I thought, 'No one else knows what this feels like,'" he continued bitterly. Then he looked up and gestured towards Jack, his eyes sincere and the faintest bit of a smile adorning his face. "But now I see was wrong."

Jack lowered his staff all the way now, and it hung harmlessly at his side. He watched Pitch, transfixed by the pain and the hope in his face, and for a moment he looked into Pitch's amber eyes and saw everything. He saw the years of loneliness and the pain of being hated, he saw the bitterness and the anger at the injustice of the world, he saw the deep and desperate longing to be seen, to be touched, to be believed in.

He saw himself.

"We don't have to be alone, Jack," Pitch said.

_Not alone…_ That was all he'd ever wanted, really. And for a moment he was sure he had had it; the Guardians had started to trust him, and Jack had decided that he rather liked them. But now- now they had turned their backs on him, and he was just _so afraid_ that he was going to be left alone again.

"I believe in you," Pitch went on, "And I _know_ children will, too."

Jack's eyes widened. Could Pitch do that? Could he really make children believe in him?

"In me?" he breathed, scarcely daring to hope.

"Yes!" Pitch said with a chuckle. He placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, and he ignored the instinct to pull away. "Look at what we can do!"

He gestured to the massive sculpture that had been created by the collision of ice and sand. It held a sort of sinister beauty, tall and curved with long, wickedly sharp spikes jutting out. Its color was a smooth blend of blue ice and black sand.

"What goes together better than cold and dark?" Pitch said, his voice rising passionately and echoing off the surrounding cliffs.

Jack stepped forward and saw his reflection in the icy structure. His brow furrowed at Pitch's words. Cold and dark? But… weren't those the things that people, especially children, disliked? Still… if that was the only way he would ever be believed in…

But then Jack caught a good look at his reflection, and what he saw in his eyes surprised him. There was something dark there, something wild and shady and frightening. Something he had never seen in himself before, and that he wasn't entirely sure he liked.

"We can make them believe!" Pitch was saying. Jack jumped the slightest bit as he suddenly appeared on his right side, even though he had been moving to the left just a moment ago. His voice rose as he got carried away in his speech. "We'll give them a world where everything- everything!- is-"

"Pitch Black?" Jack cut in.

Pitch froze, hesitating for a full second before he recovered. "And Jack Frost, too," he said, pointing at him. "They'll believe in both of us."

But that hesitation, small as it was, told Jack everything he needed to know. "No they'll _fear_ both of us," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing. "And that's not what I want."

And it really wasn't. When Jack had told the moon that he had tried everything to get people to see him, he had meant _everything_. And that included scaring people. He had tried things such as sharp icicles falling dangerously close, or black ice that appeared out of nowhere in the street. But none of that had worked, anyway, and the look in the people's eyes when he scared them just didn't feel _right_. It made him feel all wrong and guilty inside, so he had stopped.

It was better, he decided, to be alone than to be surrounded by people who were only there because they were afraid. And as much as it pained him, he knew it was the right choice.

He turned his back on Pitch and began to walk away. "Now for the last time, leave me alone."

* * *

Pitch stared at Jack's retreating back, dumbfounded. He had been sure, _so sure_, that Jack would accept his offer. How could he not? After all, Pitch had offered him everything that he wanted: a victory in this war, a chance to be believed in, the opportunity to never be alone again. So why hadn't he said yes?

_Because he is one of them, _he realized. _Because you didn't get to him soon enough, _he thought regretfully. And then, contemptuously, _Because he is "noble"._

Fine, then. If he wanted to pass up the best chance he was ever going to get, then that was his loss. But Jack Frost was still a powerful force, and Pitch couldn't let him return to the Guardians. If he did, then there was still the slightest chance they might be able to fight back. And that could not happen.

Pitch reached into a shadow portal behind his back and pulled out his last resort.

"Very well," he said to Jack, pouring as much contempt as possible into his words. "You want to be left alone? _Done. _But first…"

And he held out the struggling mini fairy.

* * *

Jack heard the frantic chirping of Baby Tooth even before he turned around. His eyes widened in horror when he saw her trapped within Pitch's tight grip.

"Baby Tooth!" he called out. He flew over with an arm outstretched, but stopped short, wary of getting within Pitch's reach. He held his staff up and gave Pitch a threatening look.

"The staff, Jack!" Pitch demanded.

Jack's composure slipped. _What? _He glanced down at his cherished staff and then back up at Pitch.

"You have a bad habit of interfering," Pitch snarled. "Now hand it over… and I'll let her go."

Baby Tooth chirped and shook her head, and Jack didn't have to speak bird to know she was telling him not to do it.

Jack gripped the staff tighter, wanting so badly to strike out at Pitch but knowing that doing so would mean the end of Baby Tooth. And even though Tooth probably hated him now, Baby Tooth was innocent and he owed it to her to get her out of the situation he had landed her in in the first place.

The staff glowed with ice, as if charging up for an attack. The standoff dragged on a few more seconds, but then Jack's tense stance loosened in defeat and the glow faded away. Pitch smirked, knowing he had won.

Jack hefted his beloved the staff in his hand once more. The staff that he had had since the beginning, that allowed him to communicate with the wind, his only friend, that granted him power that he had never really understood but had grown to love. And now it was all going to be taken away, for he was sure that if he did as Pitch commanded there was a likely possibility he would never see his staff again.

But he had to do it. He had to do it for Baby Tooth.

With a sigh he flipped the staff in his hand so that the handle was facing Pitch and held it out to him. He looked away, unable to watch as Pitch grabbed it and pulled it away. He hated seeing it in Pitch's hands; it was like giving away a part of himself.

And now he stood before Pitch, defenseless.

"Alright," he said, his voice laced with warning even though he had nothing to threaten with. He held out his hand. "Now let her go."

Pitch smirked at him, waited a second as if he was thinking about it, and then said one simple word that cut deep into Jack.

"No."

Jack dropped his hand and his eyes widened for a second before narrowing again. He should have known Pitch would do something like this.

"You said you wanted to be alone," Pitch said. Then his voice rose to a shout. "So _be_ alone!"

Jack tried to think of a way out of this, but then Baby Tooth, brave little Baby Tooth, stabbed her needlelike beak into Pitch's hand. Pitch cried out in pain and then hurled Baby Tooth straight towards a cliff wall.

"No!" Jack cried. He spun around just in time to see Pitch holding his staff horizontally with both hands, and he had the smallest of milliseconds to read the malicious glint in his eyes and realize what he was about to do, but of course that wasn't enough time to do anything.

**_SNAP_**

A scream of agony escaped Jack's lips when an entirely unexpected stab of intense, fiery pain in his chest accompanied the sound of his splintering staff. Instinctively his hands clutched at his stomach and he doubled over. For a moment the pain was so intense that he could do nothing; he couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't even _breathe_.

His vision blurred, but he could still make out the mass of nightmare sand that was heading towards him at a frightening speed. Before he could even gather his thoughts, the sand smashed into him with enough force to lift him off his feet and slam him hard into the cliff face that Pitch had just thrown Baby Tooth into. His body, still reeling from the scorching pain in his gut, did not take well to the impact, and black spots obscured his sight as his eyes fluttered shut. He cried out as he fell into the deep ravine, trying to curl up in a ball to somehow protect himself. But the jolting impact of his landing further worsened his condition.

He distantly heard the haunting sound of Pitch's gloating laugh, and it wove itself into nightmares of indistinct shadows as he fell into the black void of unconsciousness.

* * *

**Warning: long A/N ahead**

**So I threw in that little bit about the shadow portal because I honestly have no idea where Pitch pulled Baby Tooth from in the movie and he doesn't appear to have any pockets and even if he did I find it hard to believe Baby tooth would stay silent for all that time.**

**And now to thank all my reveiwers.**

**SeaTheShadows, Blood-red Moonlight, Dreamcreator, IAmBehindYou, Rynn Wolfe, Em, Lillix-lolita, viridianaln9, Destiel101, ToTheSkye, Frost Mausoleum, Courage84905, Rose Jennison, Pebblepaw, history nut, Dominosowner, Death-Sama01, Peanut Butter Rules, jesusfreak200, of muffins and sprinkles, SnowFlower Frost, AllieSnow, Jessie (hey gurl 3), Sleepery, Nubian Queen, IWillNeverStopFangirling, mad 4 the doctor, Caithlinn13, Kenmae, JadeRoseStar, DragonflyonBreak, CurlyWurlyMe, Emeraldbuttercup, believeitornotimamom, ChaosBabe, Anonymous568, and all the Guests- I love you sooo much. You make me smile every day when I get a new review, even if it's been a bad one. The day, that is. Not the review.**

**And to all the followers and favoriters that would take forever to list, same to you. You make me want to lock myself in my room all day and just keep writing for you.**

**And to everyone else, even a small, short review makes all the difference. And if you have constructive criticism I welcome that too (but break it to me gently)- and there is a difference, mind, between constructive criticism and flames. I want to become a better writer, and blatant hate does nothing to help me.**

**I will shut up now :)**


	32. The Last Light

**I love this scene so much :)**

* * *

The room was dark and bleak, and the stuffed rabbit stared back at Jamie forlornly with its single eye. Jamie wasn't entirely sure what he was doing; all he knew was that things had been bad lately, what with the nightmares and the absence of eggs on Easter and the overall heavy feeling that seemed to be shrouding the whole town, and he was starting to have his doubts. Perhaps his friends were right; perhaps that moment when he had had all the legends of his childhood in his room had been nothing but a weird dream. But he still had a little hope that it wasn't, and he was clinging to that desperately right now.

"Okay, look," he said to the pink rabbit. "You and I are obviously at what they call a crossroads. So, here's what's gonna happen." He leaned forward, looking directly into the rabbit's face. "If it wasn't a dream, and if you _are _real, then you have to prove it. Like, _right now._"

Silence.

Jamie tried a different approach. "I believed in you for a long time, okay? Like, my whole life, in fact." He picked up the rabbit. "So you kind of owe me now. You don't have to do much, just a little sign so I know." He looked in the worn animal's face intently. "Anything," he whispered. "Anything at all."

He waited one… two… three… four… five full seconds. But nothing happened. The rabbit was still just a rabbit, and the room was depressingly silent. Jamie dropped his head dejectedly. What was he even doing, trying to reason with a stuffed rabbit? What had he been expecting? Maybe it was finally time for him to face the awful truth.

"I knew it," he said sadly, even a touch angrily.

He let go of the rabbit, and it fell off the bed and hit the floor with a thud.

* * *

Thousands of miles away, the North Pole was silent as hundreds of yetis and elves closely watched the globe of belief. The last light flickered and dimmed, and every creature held its breath, the same question running through each of their minds.

_Will it go out?_

* * *

Jack watched Jamie from just outside his window. He knew he had to do something, he just couldn't figure out what. After all, how was he supposed to convince Jamie that Bunny was real when he couldn't be seen or heard?

_Improvise, _his inner voice said. _You're good at that._

Jack gently pushed open the window and slipped inside the room. Jamie, too caught up in his despair, either didn't notice the window or didn't care. Jack could see his belief was fading fast, so he did the first thing that came to mind. With a gentle touch to the glass, frost crept up the window. Jamie looked up at the crackling sound of his magic.

Jack traced the shape of a painted egg in the frost, and smiled when Jamie's eyes widened with realization. The boy glanced down at his toy rabbit on the floor and stood up, fully fixated on the window and the frost that continued to cover it. Knowing he had his attention, Jack then traced the shape of a bunny on the upper window pane.

"He's real…" Jamie whispered.

Jack grinned. _You ain't seen nothin' yet, kid._

He cupped his hands and closed his eyes, concentrating. It had been a while since he had tried this particular trick. But then he smiled as the bunny gained dimension and volume, peeling away from the window and hopping through the air on a trail of bluish light.

Jamie laughed in delight and Jack couldn't stop himself from laughing too. The bunny leapt playfully around the room, and Jamie tried to catch it as it flew circles around him. Then the rabbit burst into snow just above his head, the flakes falling gently down.

* * *

Jamie's mouth hung open in awe. "Snow?" he said to himself. That was weird. He had never thought that the Easter Bunny could make it snow; in fact he always thought of him as a spring sort of guy. But then, who else could have brought him this sign?

A single snowflake landed on the tip of his nose, and it stung a bit from the cold. Suddenly, he remembered something his mom had said to him just days ago.

_You don't want Jack Frost nipping at your nose!_

She had just waved it off as an expression, but what if it was more than that? What if _he_ was more than that?

"Jack Frost," he said, his eyes widening in realization.

* * *

Jack was admiring his snow when he heard his name. Or at least, he thought he heard it. But that was impossible. He looked over at Jamie.

"Did he just say…?"

"Jack Frost?" Jamie said, sounding more like a question this time, as if he was asking if he was there.

Jack's eyes widened and he gasped. "He said it again! He said- you said-"

Jamie turned and looked in his direction, and his mouth fell open. "Jack Frost!"

"That's right!" Jack said, elated. He took a few steps back, amazed. "But- but that's me! Jack Frost! That's _my_ name!" He marveled at Jamie. "You said my name!"

Jamie's mouth opened, if possible, even wider. He was still staring in Jack's direction, and Jack could almost believe that he was staring at him. It even looked like his eyes were focused on him. And the thought struck him that maybe… just maybe…

"Wait, can- can you hear me?" He hardly dared get his hopes up. Not after so many times of hoping and then being terribly let down.

But, shockingly, Jamie nodded. Jack leaned in closer, his brow furrowed. "C- can you… can you see me?"

And Jamie nodded, a smile spreading across his face.

Jack laughed breathlessly, his air catching in his throat. His heart jumped for joy in his chest, and he could barely even think because he was so elated because _he could see him, he could really see him_!

"He sees me!" He gasped out. His vision went blurry, but he didn't even care that were tears in his eyes. He didn't care, didn't care, because the only thing that mattered right now was the little boy in front of him with the big brown eyes that could _actually see him_. "He- he sees me!"

A joy and happiness of such strength that he had never, ever felt before bubbled up inside of him, and he laughed and did a back flip onto Jamie's desk.

"You just made it snow!" Jamie said excitedly.

"I know!" Jack replied, unable to come up with a better response.

"_In_ my _room_!" Jamie continued.

"I know!" Jack said again, spreading his arms.

"You're real?" Jamie asked.

"Yeah!" Jack cried out, jumping off the desk. "I mean, who do you think brings you all the blizzards, a-and the snow days! A-and remember when you went flying on that sled the other day?"

Jamie's eyes widened in realization. "That was you?!"

"That was me!"

"Cool!" Jamie exclaimed.

"Right?" Jack laughed.

"But- but what about the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, and- I mean, what-"

"Real, real, real!" Jack cut in, scooping up the stuffed rabbit. "Every one of us is real!"

"I knew it!" Jamie yelled. But his grin suddenly dropped when his mother's voice called out from another room.

"Jamie? Who are you talking to?"

"Um…" Jamie looked to Jack, who jerked his head towards the door with a smile.

_Oh, go ahead. Why not?_

"Jack Frost?" Jamie answered.

His mom laughed. "Okay…"

Jamie's mouth dropped open. He looked at Jack and laughed, and he joined in. But then, all of a sudden, the happiness drained out of Jack when the window blew open violently and thunder rumbled outside. He glanced at Jamie before going over to the window, watching the lightning flash and, far off in the distance, he saw clouds of black sand approaching.

"Oh, that is really not good…" he muttered to himself.

"Jack?" Jamie asked. "What- what's going on?"

Jack turned back to him, biting his lip as he tried to think of an explanation that wouldn't scare the kid out of his wits. "Okay, well, you've heard of the Boogeyman, haven't you?"

Jamie nodded. "Yeah, he's the guy who brings nightmares. But that's just a story."

Jack sighed. "Don't I wish. Look, the truth is he's real, his name is actually Pitch Black, and he's trying to take over the world. And he wants… well, there isn't really a way to sugarcoat it. He wants you."

Jamie's eyes widened in fear. "Me?" he whispered. "Why?"

"Because you're the only kid who still believes."

Jamie looked alarmed.

"But don't worry, don't worry," Jack reassured him quickly. "We won't let him get to you."

Jamie's forehead creased. "We?"

Hearing the sound of bells and metal against concrete, Jack glanced out the window and smiled. "Yeah. We." He jumped on the windowsill, poised to fly out it. Then he glanced back at Jamie and grinned. The boy smiled back, and his face lit up in excitement at Jack's next words.

"Meet me in the front yard, and get ready for the night of your life!"

* * *

**Okay, everyone, listen up. I will be on vacation for one week starting Saturday, and I won't have access to technology so there will be no updates. I might be able to get in one more chapter tomorrow but I make no promises. Just so you know.**


	33. Final Battle

**So, I have managed to get another one finished. Enjoy it, because you won't be getting another for at least a week.**

* * *

It was unlike anything Jamie had ever seen. The clouds, dark and threatening, loomed over massive, roiling waves of sand as black as night. Lightning flashed, illuminating the nightmarish silhouette of the dark man on the equally shady horse that gazed from atop a building down on the Guardians, Jamie, and his friends. Jamie did not have to ask who the man was; he knew him from some dark primal instinct inside him that urged him to run, to hide under the covers, to do whatever he could to get away. Admittedly, the man's physical appearance was not as frightening as Jamie had expected, but his simplicity was sinister in a way that suggested that Jamie really did not want to see what he could be.

Pitch spoke in a smoothly accented voice that sent chills down Jamie's spine. "You think a few _children _can help you? Against _this_?" He gestured to the sea of darkness that approached the town on all sides, crackling with lightning and booming with thunder.

Santa Claus, or North as he was apparently called, raised his sword. But soon his arm wavered, and with a groan he dropped it, leaning on the sword like a cane. Jack and the Tooth Fairy rushed to his side to help, and for the first time Jamie saw North not as a jolly warrior but as a tired old man. Jack, hearing his frightened gasp, turned around to face him.

"They're just bad dreams, Jamie," he said in an attempt to reassure him, even though Jamie could see in his eyes that Jack was just as alarmed as he was.

"We'll protect ya, mate," tiny Bunny said.

"Aw," Pitch said mockingly, "You'll protect them?" He laughed, a grim and menacing sound. "But who will protect _you_?"

His voice echoed off the buildings, and the question reverberated through each of their minds. Jack stepped forward, staff in hand, clearly the only one of the Guardians with enough strength to fight. He glared at Pitch, the only obstacle between the nightmare army and his friends.

Alone.

And even though Jamie had only just met Jack, he couldn't bear to see him face the impossible all by himself. There was no way that he could defeat all the nightmares and Pitch without any real help. And so, drawing strength and courage from his desire to help and his belief in Jack, he stepped forward.

"I will," he said, answering Pitch's question and taking pride in the fact that his voice did not waver. He ignored Jack's shocked look, keeping his eyes fixated on Pitch.

"I will." He heard Cupcake's fierce and determined voice from behind him, and she walked forward to join him.

Next came the twins, pushing past each other to be first.

"I will."

"I will."

"And me," said Pippa as she came up on his right, and even though her eyes shone with fear her voice was sure.

"Uh, I- I'll try…" Monty said from his left, and Jamie's heart swelled with pride.

Together they formed a line, standing before the storm of nightmares. Jamie shared a look with Jack, who gave him the slightest of nods. Then they turned back to face Pitch, who was speaking again.

"Still think there's no such thing as the Boogeyman?" he asked, and then the black wave was rushing forward at terrifying speed, knocking out streetlights and swallowing up cars. But, strangely, Jamie was filled not with fear, but with strength.

_They're just bad dreams, Jamie…_

"I do believe in you," he said. "I'm just not afraid of you."

And it wasn't until after the words left his mouth that he realized how true they were. He knew Pitch was real, and he knew that nightmares were things that sometimes you just couldn't avoid. But no matter how terrifying and how utterly lifelike those nightmares were, they were no more substantial than mist, evaporating in the light of the rising sun. And knowing that, they didn't seem so bad anymore. All you needed was a little light…

The nightmare sand accumulated into one point, rushing down towards the little group. Jamie raised his hand, knowing it was little protection against the wave but feeling he had to do something.

_All you need is a little light…_

And then, just as the dark sand hit, it suddenly changed, bursting into the bright color of gold. The change rushed up through the charging wave, turning most of the sand into its brighter counterpart and lighting up the street.

"Woah!" Jamie cried out.

The gold sand wove through the air in golden streams, and they all laughed and smiled, reaching out to touch it. Suddenly, the Guardians seemed to be filled with new strength. Tooth cried out in delight as her wings came to life again. She sped through the air, cheered on by his friends. North straightened, hefting his swords above his head with a jolly laugh, all signs of his earlier weakness gone.

"Oh, yeah!" Monty cried out.

Suddenly Jamie heard Pitch's voice from atop the building. "No!" he cried out in dismay. Then, he ordered his nightmares, "Get them!"

The dark horses stampeded towards the group, but just as they were upon them North took two snow globes and smashed them on the ground. They opened some sort of portal, and out came- Jamie couldn't believe his eyes- Bigfoot! But not just one Bigfoot. There were lots of them, ranging in color from black to brown to gray to white and speaking in some gargling language that Jamie did not understand in the slightest. He stared in awe, and then shot the twins a smug look.

_Told you!_

But they were not the only ones that came out of the portals. There were also weird, glowing toys that whizzed through the air and small creatures in pointy hats that could only be elves. The children laughed and smiled at the spectacle.

Then Bunny, who had become full sized again, tapped his foot on the ground and somehow opened holes in the solid asphalt. Out of the holes erupted huge, mossy stone eggs that walked on little legs. One of them came up underneath Caleb, and he got stuck on top of it.

"Come on!" roared Bunny, and he rushed toward the battle with his boomerangs raised.

"Let's get 'em!" called Cupcake with her fist raised, and, suddenly inspired, Jamie and his friends ran into the fray. They charged the nightmares, and as soon as they touched them they burst into golden sand. Soon, nearly all the nightmares were gone and Pitch and the Guardians were out of sight.

Jamie stood next to Caleb, who ran his hands through the streams of sand. "Look at that!" he exclaimed.

_Yeah, _Jamie thought. _It reminds me of… _His eyes widened as it hit him. _The Sandman…_

"I got it," he said. "I know what we have to do!" He started off, waving his friends forward. "Guys, come on!"

Soon they were all gathered around him, looking excited but slightly confused.

"What is it, Jamie?" Pippa asked.

"I know what we can do to help them," he said. He held out his hand to her. "Take my hand." Still looking confused, she did. "All of you join hands," he said, looking at the rest of his friends.

Monty took hold of Pippa's other hand, then Cupcake grabbed his, making him look slightly terrified. Claude joined hands with Cupcake and Caleb, and Caleb completed the circle with Jamie.

"Alright, now everybody think of the best dream you have ever had. Close your eyes and concentrate really hard on that. Think of how it made you feel, and try and grab on to that feeling and don't let go."

He waited until everyone else's eyes were closed, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and remembered. He remembered the dream he'd had just the other night, when he had relived that epic sled ride through the streets, only instead of crashing in a snow pile at the end he had just kept flying, taking to the sky. He had felt so incredibly free.

Pippa thought of a dream she'd had once, not that long ago, that had taken place deep under the sea. She had dreamed that she was just sitting on the bottom, her hair floating gently around her and the sun shining through the crystal blue water. She had been surrounded by fish and coral and animals of every color and shape, and it had just been so beautiful. She had felt so at peace.

Monty recalled the dream he had all the time, in which he was cool and popular and didn't have his stupid stutter. He was surrounded by friends, and all of them thought he was awesome. Everybody wanted to be around him. It made him feel so loved.

Cupcake thought of her favorite dream, the one she had every now and then. The one where she was in a sunny meadow just at the start of spring, and the field was full of unicorns. She remembered the unicorn that she so loved to ride, the one that seemed to be made of pure gold. She always felt so happy when she had that dream.

The twins remembered the same dream from that one time where they had shared the exact same dream. They had been traveling around the world, just the two of them, and doing whatever they wanted: skydiving over China, bungee-jumping from the Eiffel Tower, skiing in the Himalayas, surfing in Malibu. They had felt so alive.

When they opened their eyes they saw the streams of sand were circling around them, faster and faster and faster the more they remembered their dreams. Then, suddenly, all the sand shot to the sky and sped over to a nearby field.

"C'mon!" Claude called out. "Let's go see what's happening!"

* * *

"It's over, Pitch. There's no place to hide."

Pitch's eyes widened as he realized that the winter spirit may very well be right. He looked back and forth between each of the Guardians, and then he noticed something. The way the Guardians stood, their stance, the way they looked to Jack for what to do next… well, it was clear to Pitch that even though North was the de facto leader of their little band, Jack was clearly in charge at the moment, even if he didn't realize it himself. And what was the best way to defeat an army?

You take out their leader.

With a dark chuckle, he sank into the shadows, throwing the Guardians off guard. They turned around and around, searching for him in the shifting shadows on the wall. Then he rose up right behind Jack, who was completely oblivious to the fact. Bunny turned around just as he raised his black scythe.

"Jack, look out!' he called out in warning. He threw a boomerang, but it bounced harmlessly off the handle of the scythe. Jack whirled around, his eyes widening as he saw Pitch and his deadly weapon looming over him. Pitch felt the winter spirit's fear, and he relished every bit of it as he brought the scythe down for the fatal blow.

It was time to get rid of Jack Frost once and for all.

But he never got any farther. Something from behind grabbed the scythe and yanked Pitch back, pulling him backwards through the air. He yelled in surprise as he was dragged on his stomach up a snowy hill, and when he looked up he found himself facing a swirling vortex of golden sand. Something was glowing deep within it.

_No, no, it can't be… _

But then the light took a solid shape that emerged from the sand, and Pitch found himself face to face with none other than the Sandman.

Pitch looked into Sandy's stern and determined eyes, and in that horrible, gut wrenching moment he knew he had lost. His heart sank down to his toes as Sandy pulled him closer, and with a stern shake of his finger he punched him hard in the face, sending him flying into the air while still attached to a rope of gold sand.

Up in the air Pitch had a fleeting moment during which the slightest bit of the moon appeared through the dark clouds before disappearing again, almost like it was winking at him.

_Oh, go ahead, rub it in my face why don't you… _he thought sarcastically.

But he had no more time to wallow in self pity, because then he was being yanked back down to earth. The ground came up to meet him very quickly and very hard, and he instantly blacked out.

* * *

Jamie joined in the yelling and cheering as the Guardians surrounded Sandy and welcomed him back. He smiled as Sandy rose off the ground on a cloud of his own creation, sending out dreams to children everywhere. There would be no more nightmares tonight.

Then his eyes widened as golden figures took shape from the sand. He saw enormous dinosaurs and sting rays that glided through the air as easily as if it was water, he saw paper cranes that flew in flocks like real birds and dolphins that flipped playfully through the dreamsand, he saw flecks of sand falling like snow and fish that came so close he reached out and almost touched them.

He continued looking around in awe, feeling that the very air was charged with magic. But then suddenly something hard and wet hit him in the back of the head, and when he turned around he saw Jack smiling at him, snowball in hand. Laughing, he bent down and formed a snowball of his own.

There was nothing quite like a snowball fight to end the night.


	34. Warmth

**Set shortly after Jack becomes a Guardian.**

* * *

Jack Frost was always cold.

That was to be expected, of course. Being the spirit of winter, ice, snow, frost, and basically being the personification of cold, it just sort of went without saying. Even if you didn't know who he was, simply hearing his name put you in mind of an icy winter day. Jack Frost and the cold were a package deal; most of the time you couldn't get one without the other.

Jack didn't mind being cold all the time. It was all he'd ever really known, and had become just as much a friend to him as the wind. And even though the wind was a presence while the cold was more of a feeling, it could be just as comforting at times. The cold was familiar, something he could count on to always be there.

When Jack had first been reborn and still had not fully understood who, or rather what, he was, he had attempted to fend off the cold. He had seen the humans huddling around fires with their backs to the wind, savoring every bit of its warmth. And, even though he had not been bothered by the cold, he felt that if everyone else liked warmth better then maybe he should too. Perhaps it would bring him one stop closer to being noticed, to being like them. However, he had found the fire to be stifling, overly hot, and just uncomfortable overall. So he tended to stay away from it.

Sometimes, though, on nights when he would get a nice blizzard going that would guarantee a snow day the following morning, he would happen to glance inside the houses through the lit windows and see the families inside, wrapped in blankets and holding mugs of hot chocolate, laughing and telling stories around the fireplace. It was almost like a different world to Jack. There was his side of the window where everything was cold from the raging snow, dark from the clouds that blocked out the stars and the moon, and totally empty, all the people having gone inside and leaving him the only living thing walking the streets. And then there was the other side of the window, where it was happy and bright and, well, _warm_. But the window was an impossible, impenetrable barrier that he knew he could never cross, and it hurt to be able to look through it and get a glimpse at something that he was beginning to realize he would never have.

He supposed that he must have been warm back in his human days. His memories had revealed to him that much. But even though Jack knew that the memories belonged to him, he still could not identify himself with the boy they centered around. In his mind there were two parts of his life: before the lake and after the lake. Before the lake there was Jackson Overland, a simple shepherd boy and a human with no idea of the world that waited just beyond his sight. After the lake there was Jack Frost, a part of that invisible world and far from being completely human. Two names; two people. Jackson Overland may have known warmth, but Jack Frost certainly did not.

Jack Frost was always cold. He was born in it, lived in it, _reveled_ in it even. But that didn't mean that he didn't sometimes wish he could be warm.

All this went through Jack's head as he sat in the North Pole on a red fluffy rug before a flickering fire in the fireplace, staring into its depths while his mind went off somewhere else. It was late, and another of North's parties was coming to an end.

North liked to have a party at least once a month, to give the Guardians a break from their hectic jobs and just have some time to relax and hang out. Jack always felt slightly uncomfortable when he first arrived at these gatherings; even though he knew he was technically one of them now, he still felt awkward around the Guardians whenever they spoke of things they had done together in the past or brought up inside jokes that everyone but Jack understood. It was extremely hard to remain awkward around them, however; they simply did not let you. They were naturals at making him feel welcome and included, and for that he was grateful.

But as much as he tried to simply let himself go and enjoy the party, there was that stubborn, cowardly, terrified part of him that still wondered if this not all just a dream that could be taken away at any given moment, that feared that if he did the wrong thing or said the wrong words he would be cast out again, out into the snow and the loneliness and the cold. The part that shied away from contact and friendship. The part that was the reason he was sitting here alone instead of over by where Sandy, Bunny and North were playing poker while Tooth watched, having already lost all her money (which, when you thought about it, was actually kind of ironic).

Absentmindedly he traced the rivets in his staff that lay across his lap, lost in thought. But he was suddenly brought back to the present by the humming sound of wings. He looked to the side and saw Tooth, who held two mugs in her hand, settling down on the rug next to him. She offered him one of the mugs, blue ceramic stenciled with frost designs.

"Want some hot- um, I mean, iced cocoa?" she asked.

Jack murmured assent and accepted the mug, sipping the chocolaty drink and turning his gaze back to the flames. The two sat watching the fire in a comfortable silence for a minute, before Tooth spoke up again.

"Are you okay, Jack?"

He looked at her in surprise. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She sighed. "I don't know… but it's something I've noticed all night. You joke like you've known us your whole life, you laugh like it's the most natural thing, and you smile like you don't have a care in the world. But…" she tilted her head and met his gaze. "None of it quite reaches your eyes. They are always so distant."

Jack looked away again, taking another sip of cocoa before answering. "It's just… I'm not used to it, I guess. Being here. Being with you guys. Usually right now I'd be off making a snow day somewhere or going for a night flight."

"So you prefer to be on your own?" asked Tooth.

"I don't know about 'prefer', exactly," he answered carefully. "But it's what I'm used to."

"Well," Tooth said, lifting her slim pink and purple mug to her lips, "You'll warm up to us, I'm sure."

"It's either that or be driven insane," Jack joked.

"Hey!" Tooth said indignantly, but she was smiling. She paused, and then said thoughtfully, "I suppose you must take the bad along with the good. That's the way it is with all families."

Jack choked a bit on his drink at her words. "Family?" he repeated.

"Yes," she said, giving him a funny look. Then her expression turned slightly nervous. "Don't… don't you think that's what we are?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could the sounds of North and Bunny arguing cut him off.

"… will settle this once and for all," North said. "Jack!"

He craned his neck to look behind him. North and Bunny stood close to each other, looking like they were on the verge of a brawl. Their card game lay abandoned, but Sandy, obviously used to this sort of thing, had conjured up two sand figures and was continuing the game.

"Yeah?" Jack said

"What is your favorite holiday? Easter or Christmas?"

Jack paused a second before replying, "What do you think?" Then he turned back around and took another drink, leaving them to puzzle that one out.

"Ha!" shouted North to Bunny. "I told you!"

"That doesn't mean a thing!" Bunny protested. "He didn't even answer the question, really, and he could've been talking about either one!"

"But he meant Christmas."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, Bunny, my friend," the Russian replied in the tone of somebody explaining that one plus one made two, "Christmas and snow go hand in hand. Everybody knows that."

"Oh, for the love of the moon…"

They continued on in this vein, and Jack smiled into his cocoa as he listened. Then Tooth leaned over towards him and whispered conspiratorially, "Which is your favorite, really?"

"Neither," he answered.

She looked surprised. "Neither?"

"Nope. I like Halloween best, actually."

Tooth wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, Halloween. The single biggest day of destructive sugar distribution of the year. A dentist's worst nightmare." She hugged her arms close to her as if physically chilled. "_My_ worst nightmare."

Jack laughed at that. "Well, I like it, anyway. Best night of the year, if you ask me."

Tooth shook her head. "Are you going to tell them?" she asked, waving in North and Bunny's direction.

"Does it matter?" he replied. "They'll just go back to fighting no matter what I say."

Tooth giggled. "Truest thing I've heard all night."

Jack chuckled in agreement and took another sip of his cocoa. He looked around him, at Tooth sitting close next to him and at Sandy being beaten soundly at poker by his own sand creations and at North and Bunny bickering good-naturedly like brothers. And as he did so, he felt something stirring inside him, a feeling that neither the hottest of fires nor the most scorching of days could provide. A feeling that he was a stranger to and that he had wished for but had never actually expected to have.

Warmth.

* * *

**Look who's back! And with plenty of nature and s'more inspired ideas, too!**


	35. The Perfect S'more

**This came to me randomly while I was eating s'mores the other day.**

* * *

Jamie sat sprawled across his bed, his chin in his hand as he idly flipped through his book about mythological creatures. He wasn't really focused on it, though. He was bored and would have liked to go hang out with his friends, but since he was home alone he was not allowed to leave the house. He didn't have much to do, so he had turned to his book even though he must have read it a thousand times by now. He always enjoyed reading about the strange and mysterious beings, from dragons and sphinxes to phoenixes and the Loch Ness Monster. He turned the page and found the section on Bigfoot that Phil the yeti had signed. He looked at the surprisingly curly script and wondered, not for the first time, just how many of the legends in his book were more than legends after all.

With a sigh he closed the book and tossed it aside, then flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He was _so _bored. He had never had much patience with inactivity, and being cooped up in his house all day was driving him nuts. He glanced longingly out the window, where he could see the tops of the other houses in his neighborhood covered in a white layer. What he wouldn't give to be out there right now, playing in the snow.

Then, almost as if he'd summoned it, a snowball exploded against his window. He jumped, startled, and then leapt off his bed and went over to the window. He threw it open and poked his head out into the frigid air and saw Jack standing in the yard, his staff in one hand and another snowball in the other. He flashed him a smile and waved.

"Hey, Jamie!" Jack greeted. "Come outside and play!"

"I would if I could," he shouted back, his breath misting in the air.

A woman jogging past gave him a funny look as she went by, no doubt wondering who the heck he was yelling at. But he ignored her.

"Why can't you?" Jack asked.

"Mom took Sophie to a friend's house and Dad is at work. I'm not allowed to leave the house until they get back."

Jack looked perplexed. "Why not?"

"Because my mom is paranoid and overprotective," he answered, rolling his eyes.

Jack laughed. "I noticed." He flew up to Jamie's window and perched on the sill. "We can just do stuff inside, then, I guess," he said.

"Sure," Jamie answered, stepping aside to let him in. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Jack said slipping inside and closing the window behind him. "I'm sure there's something."

Just then Jamie's stomach growled. "It's about lunchtime," he said. "Do you want something to eat?"

Jack shrugged. "If you're going to have something, sure."

The two left the room and went down the stairs to Jamie's kitchen. Jamie went to the cupboard and took out bread and peanut butter and jelly. Just as he was about to make the sandwich, Jack said, "Just plain PB and J?"

"Yeah," he replied. "It's what I always have."

"Exactly," Jack said. "What you _always _have. We should try something different." He looked around, and his face brightened when he saw a huge loaf of bread, the type of bun they use for giant sub sandwiches. "We should make a sub with everything on it!"

"When you say everything…" Jamie began.

"I mean _everything_," Jack finished, grinning mischievously.

Jamie's face split into a smile. "Now you're talking."

He put the bread on the table and went over to the cupboard while Jack opened the fridge. "Let's start with peanut butter and jelly- the classics."

"With some turkey and lettuce," Jack said, rummaging through the fridge's contents.

"Cheese, jam, salami…"

"Ham and pickles and tomatoes."

"Applesauce? Oh, why not."

"Jeez, you have a lot of veggies. Let's use them all!"

"Bologna and bacon… never tried those together before."

This went on for some time, and soon the counter was completely covered in ingredients. They put everything on the bun, but Jamie felt like something was missing. He gasped when he realized what it was.

"We almost forgot the condiments!"

They then returned to scouring the kitchen for anything and everything they could find.

"Of course, we'll need ketchup and mustard," Jack said, pulling them from the fridge.

"The spicy or the normal mustard?"

"Both!"

"I found mayo and barbecue sauce and honey. That'll be interesting."

"What the heck is wasabi?" Jack asked, inspecting the small jar filled with green paste.

"My parents eat it with their sushi sometimes," Jamie answered. "They say it's really spicy and that you should only use a little bit, as a general rule."

Jack shrugged. "I've never been one to follow the rules," he said, and scooped three heaping spoonfuls of the stuff onto the sandwich.

After squirting on all the various sauces, they topped it off with salt and pepper. The top bun was put on and secured with a toothpick, and they stepped back to view their masterpiece. It was huge and stuffed full of everything they had found, the juices and the condiments mixing together to form strange colors. There were some things combined on that sandwich that Jamie thought no sane person would ever consider eating together.

"That has got to be one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen," Jamie stated.

"Yes," Jack agreed. "Isn't it glorious?"

Jamie laughed and cut the sandwich in half, handing one half to Jack. They tapped them together and Jack said, "_Bon appétit_, Jamie!"

Several minutes later Jamie ran off to the bathroom, his hand covering his mouth and his face slightly green, leaving his half eaten sandwich behind. Jack, however, did not seem to be affected by the revolting taste and continued eating. He ignored the sound of retching from the other room, and when he was finished he licked his fingers.

When Jamie returned to the room still looking queasy, Jack asked, "Are you going to eat that?"

Jamie stared at him. "How can you not be puking right now?"

Jack laughed. "Over the years I've learned not to be picky. And trust me, I've had much worse; this is gourmet in comparison."

Jamie looked down at the sandwich. A piece of tomato covered in honey and wasabi fell out of the bread onto his plate. "Do I even want to know?"

"I don't know," Jack answered. "Do you?"

Jamie shook his head and pushed his plate over to Jack. "Knock yourself out."

Soon the sandwich was gone, and Jack looked up as Jamie started going through the cupboards again. "What are you doing now?" he asked.

"Making the kind of sandwich that actually tastes _good_," Jamie said.

"And what kind is that?"

Jamie set down the things he had gathered on the table: chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. "S'mores," he answered.

Jack's brow furrowed. "What are suh-mores?"

Jamie froze and looked up sharply. "What do you mean 'what are s'mores'? Haven't you ever had a s'more before?"

Jack shook his head. "I've never heard of them."

Jamie stared at him for five whole seconds. "You have not lived," he finally declared.

Scooping up the ingredients, he strode into the living room. Jack followed him, curious. Jamie walked over to where a fire was blazing in the fireplace and removed the protective grate. Then he took a poker that sat nearby and speared a marshmallow on it. He held the marshmallow very close to the flames.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked, bewildered.

"Completing your existence," Jamie replied, pulling back the marshmallow that was now browned around the edges. He took two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate and sandwiched the gooey marshmallow in between them. Then he set it on a plate and held it out to Jack. "Go ahead."

Jack gave the s'more a distrustful look. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure! It's chocolate, marshmallow and graham crackers! What's not to love?"

Still Jack hesitated.

"Are you serious?" Jamie said. "You just ate that really gross sandwich and enjoyed it but you're scared to try this?"

Jack glared at him. "I'm not afraid of a _marshmallow._"

"Then eat it," Jamie insisted.

"I _will_," Jack said, taking the plate. Slowly he picked up the s'more and bit off the tiniest corner. He swallowed, hesitated, and then took another, bigger, bite. His eyes widened. "What is this called, again?"

"A s'more," Jamie answered. "What do you think of it?"

Instead of answering, Jack devoured the rest of the treat in two seconds flat. He licked the last bits of marshmallow and chocolate off his fingers and looked up at Jamie hungrily. "Make me another one," he said.

Jamie obliged, and that s'more was gone even faster than the first one. After a third, Jack finally spoke and declared it to be the best thing he had ever tasted.

"And that's saying a lot," he added as an afterthought. "How have I never had one of these before?"

"Well, they are sort of a summer thing," Jamie admitted, biting into one of his own. "You know, summer camp, bonfires under the stars, s'mores… they all go together."

Jack shrugged. "If you say so." Then he picked up his plate with an uneaten s'more and headed to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Jamie asked.

"Making it even more awesome," was his reply.

He returned several minutes later with a cover over the plate. He set it down on the coffee table and said to Jamie in a bad French accent, "I present to you…" He whipped off the cover with a flourish, "Ze perfect s'more!"

The s'more was twice as tall as normal, and was covered in chocolate and sugar. As Jamie watched, it teetered from its own weight, almost falling over. Jack caught it and set it upright, but after this happened three more times he gave up and in frustration simply froze it to the plate.

"Ze perfect s'more!" he repeated.

"What is _on _that?" Jamie asked.

"Starting from the bottom and going up," Jack began, pointing to each layer. "Graham cracker, chocolate, marshmallow, chocolate syrup, graham cracker, marshmallow fluff, marshmallow, caramel syrup, chocolate, graham cracker, chocolate syrup, and powdered sugar." He sniffed and wiped away an imaginary tear. "It's beautiful!"

Jamie shook his head slowly. "My poor, misguided friend. _That _is not the perfect s'more."

Mock hurt crossed Jack's face. "I'm sorry, what?"

"_This _is the perfect s'more," he said, showing him the one he held in his hand. "Graham cracker, chocolate, marshmallow, graham cracker. Simple. Delicious. Perfect. It doesn't get any better than the original."

Jack snorted. "I beg to differ."

"You can beg all you want, buddy, but it's the truth."

Jack opened his mouth, no doubt to make some clever response, but he stopped when he saw Jamie staring past him with eyes wide with horror. He spun around with his staff raised, but saw nothing but the windows that faced the front yard. "What is it?" he asked.

Jamie, however, was looking out the windows- or rather, at the car pulling up in the driveway outside. "My mom's home," he said in a whisper, the uneaten s'more falling from his grasp and thudding back down to the plate.

"So?" Jack said dismissively.

"So?!" Jamie repeated incredulously. "What is she going to think when she sees half the food in the house sprawled out in the kitchen? And the s'mores! There's marshmallow and chocolate _in the carpet_! Oooh, she is going to be _so _mad!"

Jack bit his lip and glanced towards the window. "Well, good luck with that." He started to move away, but Jamie grabbed his wrist in a panic.

"You can't leave! This is mostly your fault!"

Jack gave him an amused look. "What do you want me to do? Take the fall for you? Kind of hard to do when she can't see me."

Jamie's voice was panicked. "Well do _something_!"

Jack sighed dramatically, but then went over to the front door and tapped it with his staff. Ice grew in the crack between the door and the doorjamb. "There. That gives you some time to clean things up." The sound of car door slamming came from outside. "Not much time, though. I'd hurry."

Jamie began scrambling around, frantically trying to put things away. "Can you help me here?"

"Oh, sure, I'll help," Jack answered. He picked up the plate of s'mores and took all of them, putting them into his hoodie pocket. "There. They were never here." He set the empty plate back down and went over to the window, pushing it open just as the doorknob began to rattle.

"Jack!" Jamie protested, but it was too late. Jack was already gone, leaving nothing but a few twirling snowflakes and an echo of a laugh behind.

To Jamie's surprise, however, his mom was not mad that he had used the majority of the kitchen's supply in his lunch and merely assumed that he was just really hungry. He escaped punishment, and that night Mrs. Bennett took the family out to an all-you-can-eat buffet for dinner. Jamie avoided the sandwiches.

Jack, on the other hand, made the mistake of introducing the elves at the North Pole to the wonder that was s'mores. He was then assigned to clean up the path of destruction the tiny creatures had left in their wake during their sugar high.

Karma. It's a killer.

* * *

**Kind of crackish and (I think) with some minor OOCness, but I like it anyway.**


	36. Who Knew

**I actually got multiple requests for this one.**

* * *

Jack was surprised by how quiet the library in the North Pole was. He knew that libraries were supposed to be quiet, but seeing as the Pole's library was in close proximity to the main console and the globe room where a lot of action seemed to take place, its silence surprised him. The only noise was the very distant tick of a clock. As he walked down the aisle between two bookcases, he trailed his fingers lightly over the spines of the books. It was clear that the library was not used often, as many of the books were covered in dust. Many of the books looked like they had never been opened.

It made Jack sad to see all the books, full of stories and imagination and other worlds, sitting unused on the shelves. Just waiting for someone to pick them up and look inside, to become part of the universe they held within, if only for a moment. A place of such wonderful things, Jack thought, should not be so lonely.

There were many who would be surprised to learn of Jack's love for books. After all, who could ever imagine Jack Frost, the energetic, wild kid, sitting still and silent in some quiet corner with his nose in a book? The images simply weren't compatible. But Jack had always been eager to read whatever he could get his hands on. In the past it had helped him while away the lonely hours, filling them with adventure and suspense and mystery. He liked fiction the best, but he read plenty of non-fiction, too. He enjoyed learning about how humans perceived the world.

Jack closed his eyes and picked out a random book from the shelf. Without looking at it, he flew up to the top of the bookcase and sat down. He opened the book to the first page, feeling the usual anticipation that came from opening a book for the first time. He looked down and began to read the first paragraph.

_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…_

But before he could get any further, the sounds of an approaching conversation broke through the silent atmosphere of the library. He looked up from the book, listening.

"I do not know why it is not working! I have tried most everything, but it still fails every time."

"What are you coming to me for, mate? I don't know anything about making toys."

"But you spend a lot of time in nature, yes? So you must know about animals."

"Not flying animals. I stick to the ground, you know that. Why don't you ask Tooth?"

"He already did. I told him that those are not my type of wings; I don't know how they work."

"What about you, Sandy? Any ideas?"

There was the sound of moving sand, then a sigh. "I thought not. Come, let us go look at the prototype again."

Curious, Jack closed the book. He jumped down from the bookcase and returned the book to its proper place before walking out of the library. The other four Guardians were gathered around something on a table in the globe room. Staff thrown casually over his shoulder, he sauntered over.

"Hey guys. What are you doing?" he asked.

North turned to face him. "Ah, hello, Jack! We were just trying to figure out why the toy I am working on does not work."

"What sort of toy?" Jack questioned.

In answer, North stepped aside so that Jack could see what was on the table. When he did, his mouth dropped open. It was a life size falcon, tall and regal with its tawny feathers shining in the light. Its big black eyes seemed to be looking straight at Jack. It looked so incredibly lifelike that he half expected it to spread its wings and take flight.

"Woah," he said with a laugh. He stepped forward and touched the feathers. "This is a toy?"

"Yes," North sighed. "I designed it to be able to move and act just like a real bird." He reached out and popped open a panel in the bird's wing, revealing complex wiring underneath. "The mechanics were easy; it is the anatomy that is giving me trouble. Look."

Jack stepped back as North pressed a button hidden among the bird's feathers. The falcon spread its wings, ran to the edge of the table, and jumped off. However, as soon as it tried to flap it wobbled in midair and crashed to the ground. North picked it up and set it back on the table.

"So you see," he said, frustration clear in his voice, "It cannot fly."

Jack picked up the falcon and spread out its wing, looking closely.

"Maybe the wings are too small in proportion to the body?" Bunny suggested.

"No, no, I made sure of that," North said.

"North," Jack said. But North did not hear him, as he was talking to Sandy.

"… I tried that as well, but it made no difference."

Jack looked up from the toy. "North," he said again, a little louder. But the Russian still did not respond.

"… I think I may just start from scratch, back to the drawing board, you know."

Jack frowned. He _hated _being ignored. Raising his voice, he shouted, "North!"

The conversation suddenly went quiet and all the Guardians turned to look at him. Jack felt his face redden a little, and his voice was much quieter as he said, "The primaries are too restricted."

"What?" North said.

"The primary feathers," Jack said, showing him the bird's wings. "They need to be able to move individually. Most birds like this- you know, hawks, eagles, falcons, and the like- have ten primaries on each wing, but you have twice that." He plucked some feathers from the bird's wings. "See, now they can rotate to provide enough thrust on the downstroke and then reduce air resistance on the upstroke."

He set the toy back down on the table and pressed the button, and this time when the falcon launched off from the table it did not fall as soon as it tried to flap its wings. It soared up towards the ceiling before gliding down in circles around the room, finally landing on Jack's outstretched arm. He smiled and looked up, and was mildly uncomfortable to see the Guardians still staring at him.

"What?"

"How did you know that?" North asked.

Jack shrugged. "Once I found this nesting ground of falcons in the Rocky Mountains somewhere. I hung around them for a while, flew around with them and noticed how they moved. And I read a book on how birds work one time."

Bunny laughed. "You read a book?"

Jack glared at him. "Yes, I read a lot. And I remember everything, too."

"What do you mean you remember everything?" Tooth asked.

"I mean I could tell you the exact wording of a conversation I had two months ago or a book I read fifty years ago," he explained.

Tooth's eyes widened. "You have a photographic memory?"

Jack nodded.

She gasped. "Do you have any idea how incredibly rare those are?"

"I do, actually," he said, setting the falcon back on the table. "Less than ten percent of the human population has them, and some of those are children who lose it once they reach adulthood."

"So you can remember everything you have seen or heard over the past three hundred years?" asked North.

"If I try, yeah," Jack said. He paused. "I try to block most of it out, though. It gets a little overwhelming sometimes."

"Why have we not heard of this before?" North demanded.

He shrugged. "It never came up. And it's not like any of you turn to _me_ when you want a question answered."

"What else do you know?" Bunny asked.

Jack casually leaned back against the table. "Oh, let's see… well, I can read most languages in Europe and can speak- apart from English- French, German, Icelandic, and Gaelic. Oh, and Mandarin. I know the basics in most fields of science and a little more than the basics in chemistry."

Sandy cut in, forming a beaker and a question mark above his head. _Why chemistry?_

Jack grinned. "I wanted to know what things mixed together blow up."

"Of course you did," Bunny muttered.

Jack ignored him and continued. "My geography's pretty good, and since I've been around for a while I know quite a bit of history, too. And then I have a huge arsenal of random facts."

Sandy formed more sand images: a plus and a minus sign.

"Oh, yes, and math too," Jack confirmed. "Algebra, geometry, calculus, all that stuff. I read a high school math book once."

"And you… enjoyed it?" North said disbelievingly.

He shrugged. "If you're bored enough you'll do anything."

"How do we know you're not making all this up?" Bunny asked.

Jack stared at him. "Why would I make this up?" When Bunny simply shrugged, he said, "I can prove it to you." He looked around at them all. "Ask away."

_"Comment t'appelles- tu?" _Tooth asked.

_"Je m'appelle Jacques," _he replied without missing a beat. "But that was easy."

Sandy formed an image above him, a very long, very complicated math equation. Jack looked at it for a minute, and then answered, "Thirty-two a-b radical seventeen c-d."

Sandy nodded, looking impressed.

Bunny spoke up next, "Okay, what is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Jack furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, African or European swallow?"

Before Bunny could answer, North said, "Which capital city touches two continents?"

"Istanbul," Jack answered. "Formerly known as Constantinople. C'mon, don't you guys have anything harder?"

"We're just getting started, mate," Bunny assured him.

This went on for some time, and Jack answered every question with unfailing accuracy. Eventually North threw his arms up in the air and said, "I give up. He knows everything."

"Not everything," Bunny said. "One more question, Jack. What does my first initial stand for?"

Jack studied Bunny, looking him up and down. He said nothing for a full minute, and then, just as Bunny began to smirk with victory, he said, "It's Edward, isn't it?"

Bunny's mouth dropped. "How did you know that?"

Jack's eyes widened. "I didn't," he said with a laugh. But I do now!"

"You-!"

Bunny lunged for Jack, but he simply took to the air and hovered just out of his reach. He shook with restrained laughter, managing to gasp out, "Calm down, Eddie. It could be worse. You could be named Eachthighearn!"

"Don't call me Eddie!" Bunny shouted.

Tooth put a hand on his shoulder. "I think Edward is a lovely name, Bunny."

"Yes," Jack agreed, still hovering just above Bunny's head. "If you're a vampire, that is."

Bunny shot him a murderous look.

"You did walk right into that one," North said with a chuckle. "You literally asked for it."

Sandy nodded in agreement. Bunny looked up at Jack.

"If you _ever _call me Eddie, Ed, Eduardo, or _any _variation of Edward, I will personally take you to the Sahara Desert and strand you there for a week!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, I totally feel threatened by an oversized fluffy bunny rabbit."

Unfortunately for Jack, he had hovered a bit too low and was now within Bunny's reach. The Pooka reached up and knocked Jack's staff out of his hand. With a yelp the winter spirit fell to the floor. He glared at Bunny as he got up and retrieved his staff.

"Not cool, Bunny."

Bunny only smiled.

Jack turned to face the rest of the Guardians. "So, are we done here? Because I was kinda in the middle of something…"

"Oh, yes, you can go, Jack. Thank you for your help," North said.

As Jack left, North picked up the toy falcon and inspected it again. Jack was right; the feathers could move more freely now. He wondered how long it would have taken him to figure that out himself. He glanced up at Jack again as he disappeared into the library and slowly shook his head.

"I never would have thought…" he muttered to himself.

Jack, meanwhile, had found the book he had started not long before and had returned to his spot on top of the bookcase. He set his staff aside and sprawled out on his stomach, once again opening to the first page.

_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…_

* * *

**Aaand I just gave Jack a photographic memory. I may regret that. Anyway, there are a couple cameos to different movies in there. Kudos to whoever recognized them!**


	37. Best Left Unsaid

**Wow. That Monty Python mention got me more reviews than I did on any other chapter. Let's have a round of applause for Curly Wurly Me, who spotted all the cameos! Even the Maximum Ride one, which I have to admit I doubted anyone would find. **

* * *

Curiosity was something Sandy could understand. He knew that some people were better at suppressing it than others; while some might avoid a question to be polite or to avoid being insensitive, others might insist upon an answer simply because their minds would not be at rest without one. Children, most of all, were the hardest to satisfy when it came to curiosity.

He supposed that was why it was Jack questioning him now instead of one of the other Guardians.

"What… what was it like, Sandy?" the boy asked hesitantly.

Sandy gave him a confused look, not understanding what he meant.

"You know… when you were… gone." His eyes flickered to Sandy's back.

The golden man closed his eyes. Oh. So that was what he wanted to know. Without really thinking about it he reached back and rubbed the spot on his back, the spot that still tingled with remembered pain sometimes and was just the slightest shade darker than the rest of him.

What was it like? Sandy could remember all too well. He could remember the first moment when the arrow struck, the blunt force that was not accompanied by pain until a moment later, and then it was a fierce and blinding pain. He could remember the iciness of the fear and dread that had crept through his veins like poison, slowly changing him from the inside out. He could remember the dizziness and the weakness that had swept through him very suddenly, causing him to stumble to his knees. He could remember the horror of watching himself gradually turn into something dark and twisted and evil. And he could remember the last moment when he had held his chin up high and accepted his fate, if only to deny Pitch the satisfaction of watching him die on his knees.

And after that? After that it was much harder to remember. There had been darkness, he knew that much for sure. And there had been fear. He had not been completely corporeal, but his mind had still been somewhat present. He had seen that he was surrounded by the darkness, but sometimes, only sometimes, there had been glimpses of something else. They had been brief, but they had been like breaths of air after nearly drowning in an endless cold ocean of nothing: a flash of blue, a distant cry, a blur of color, an echoing snap, a streak of silver, the faraway sound of bells.

And then, then there had been light. It had been just a distant glimmer at first, but it had grown in intensity until the darkness around him had changed to gold, and not just gold but gold sand, dreamsand. He had felt stronger and his mind had felt clearer and before he knew it he was whole again, with enough power to end the fighting once and for all.

But how could he describe all that to Jack? They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but Sandy could not think of any pictures that could possibly explain the experience. And even if he could, he didn't want to burden Jack with the heaviness that filled his heart whenever he thought about it. And so he just shook his head, indicating to Jack that he could not talk about it.

Jack bit his lip. "Oh, that's okay, if you don't want to talk about it that's fine, I was just wondering, you know, about how it felt and all…" He seemed to realize he was beginning to ramble and stopped.

Sandy smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his arm. He then made a series of images over his head that could be translated to mean, _Some things are best left unsaid._

"I understand," Jack said. Then, after a hesitation, he said, "But… you know… if you ever want to talk about it…"

Sandy nodded. Jack turned and started to walk away, but he paused and turned back around.

"I probably have no idea of what you went through," he said, "But you don't have to bear it alone. Not anymore."

Then he turned back around and left, and the Master of Dreams was left to wonder if perhaps Jack had been talking to himself more than he had been to Sandy.

* * *

**Eh. Not my best. But that's what happens when I write at one in the morning.**


	38. Blood and Shadows

**I have gotten several requests from people for something dark and angsty. More so than usual, I mean. That's what this is. The idea has actually been in my head since the beginning, but I didn't think I was going to use it. But if it's what the readers want...**

**Warning: contains self harm and blood. If that's not your thing you can skip this chapter.**

* * *

Sleep was not to Jack what it was to many others. Sleep was something that had to be done every now and then in order to keep up his energy, but he would much rather be doing something else. Sleep was boring in comparison to flying or making snow or being in snowball fights. And Jack, like any other child, couldn't stand to be bored.

But just because he needed to sleep didn't mean he had to sleep for very long; Jack could go for days on just a few hours of sleep. As far as he knew, all spirits could. So he usually just found a sturdy tree or a soft snow drift, took a good nap, and continued on with his business. Because of this, Jack rarely dreamed; he didn't allow himself to get deep enough into the stages of sleep.

It had not been this way in his early years. Back then Jack would sleep in the same pattern as the humans: go to sleep when the sun set and wake up when it rose. Back then he would dream all the time, wonderful dreams in which he had everything he longed for. But then he would wake up and realize that his dreams were just that- only dreams. And the hollow feeling they left behind was almost worse than the nightmares. For there had been plenty of those back then too, horrible, gut-wrenching nightmares where he woke up screaming and trembling. So Jack had trained himself not to sleep too deeply, lest he fall back into the arms of the terrible nightmares or the deceptively happy dreams.

But now things in his life were changing- changing for the better. He knew that, if he tried, he could sleep as long and as deeply as he wanted without any of those past worries. North had even offered him a room in the Pole: a circular, spacious bedroom with a four poster bed and huge bay windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and provided easy access to the snowy landscape outside. But Jack had turned it down, preferring to stick to his old sleep patterns. They say it takes three weeks to form a habit and three weeks to break one, but after nearly three hundred years of sleeping whenever and wherever he wanted he couldn't imagine it any other way.

Tonight he had returned to sleep in Burgess, or more specifically the trees that ringed his lake. With a yawn he leaned his head back against the trunk, but felt an uncomfortable knot on the wood. When he looked back at it he realized that it wasn't just a weird growth, but rather scar tissue that had obviously been there for a long time. He touched it gently, swallowing hard as a memory he had unsuccessfully tried to repress came to the forefront of his mind.

* * *

_The date was March 14, 1888. It was a day that would go down in history, though not for anything good. It was the day one of the worst blizzards ever recorded ended, but not before covering good part of New England and Canada in over four feet of snow and more or less paralyzing the entire region. _

_Jack sat in the tree, biting his lip hard as the damage reports he had overheard and read ran through his head._

**_Snow drifts as high as 52 feet… Electricity lost, telephone and telegraph system destroyed… People are stranded in their homes, and it is unknown when they will be able to emerge again… Over three hundred fatalities and counting… Two hundred ships lost in the storm, at least one hundred seamen dead… Millions of dollars in property lost… Extremely high winds… Even worse than the Schoolhouse Blizzard, which two months ago killed 235 people, including about 47 children…_**

_So many dead, so many suffering, all because of him. It was his fault there were children who after today would never smile again, men on the ships who would never sail home to their families, women who would never hold their babies close to them again. He was a monster. He was a murderer. _

_Tears rolling down his face, Jack formed a long, jagged piece of ice in his hand. _

_Those people were not the ones who should be hurting. _He _was the one who should be hurting. He was the one who should be bearing all their pain, their frozen bodies and broken hearts._

_He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and pressed the sharp part of the ice against his arm._

_He deserved to suffer. He deserved to bleed and scream and cry. He deserved it, after what he had done to those innocent people._

_He took a shuddering breath and sharply pulled on the knife of ice, ripping open his skin. _

_The pain was sharp and instantaneous, and Jack couldn't help but cry out. The blood dripped fast and hot down his arm, but he didn't look away. He made himself watch, did it because he had to, to make up for what he had done. This was his penance for what he had done._

_With a shaking hand he lifted the knife from his skin and moved it to another part of his arm. Another sharp jerk of the knife, another fresh stream of blood. He was gasping for air now, his lungs refusing to draw breath from a combination of grief and pain and self-hatred._

_Another cut, another scream._

_He was sobbing now, the tears falling thick and fast from his face and mixing with the blood. But he didn't wipe them away, because each tear was payment for the people he had killed. But no amount of tears could bring them back, could undo what he had done._

_Another cut, this one closer to his wrist and bleeding even more than the others._

**_You have to stop, _**_some reasonable voice in the back of his mind warned him. __**You're going to kill yourself.**_

_Maybe he deserved to die. Maybe that would somehow be sufficient payment for his unforgivable acts. Maybe he should just let himself bleed, his life leaking away into the snow. Maybe the world would be better off without him._

_Could he die, though? Was it possible? He looked up at the moon, the one who had cursed him with this deadly power that did nothing but hurt, nothing but kill._

_"Th-This is because of y-you," he gasped, staring up at the white orb that hung in the black sky. "This is y-your fault!" he screamed._

_The moon didn't answer, and Jack almost laughed. Of course it wouldn't answer. Maybe, all this time, he had been wrong. Maybe the moon really was just a big, lifeless hunk of rock floating millions of miles away in space. Maybe he was a just a freak of nature, an accident. Maybe he really was completely alone. _

_His forearm was completely covered in blood now; he could barely even see his pale skin underneath all the red. But it still wasn't enough. The horrible, aching, feeling that was building up inside him wouldn't go away. So he rolled up the sleeve on his other arm and pressed the knife to the unblemished skin, sliding it quickly away and opening up another red mouth in his flesh that screamed in agony. And another. And another. And another. _

_His entire body was trembling with pain and sobs, and with a final scream that was a combination of pain, sadness, anger, and hatred, he drove the knife deep into the trunk of the tree. It shattered in his hand, cutting his skin even more. But he didn't care. The gash in the tree began oozing sap, dripping down the bark like blood, or like tears._

_Jack drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his bloodied arms, shaking and crying. His blood dripped down onto the snow below, startlingly crimson against the pure white that shone in the light of the always-watching, never-caring moon._

* * *

Jack pulled his hand away from the scar quickly as if it had burned him, the memory sharp and crisp in his mind as if it had happened only yesterday. He hesitated, and then rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, half-expecting to see his arms torn and raw and bleeding. But they were as they normally were, healthy and white and untouched. There weren't even any scars; those had disappeared within a day. Because of his advanced healing properties, it was as if the incident had never happened at all.

Jack had heard somewhere that when people underwent a tragic experience, their mind would try and erase or blur the details of the event in order to try and heal them. That was not an option for Jack; he could remember every tear that fell, every twinge of pain, every drop of blood. He couldn't forget, so the only thing he could do was try and bury it underneath all his other memories. And even that could only do so much.

Jack shivered as he stood up and jumped off from the branch, taking to the sky. He would not be sleeping there tonight, not in the dark when such a sinister thing lurked in his mind.

Maybe he would take North up on his offer after all.

* * *

**To any cutters out there: Please don't do it. I'm not going to pretend I know what you're feeling. No one knows that but you. But I can tell you that cutting doesn't help, it only hurts. It hurts you, it hurts your loved ones, it hurts everyone involved. I firmly believe that your life should be about finding what makes you happy and sticking with it. And no matter what crap is happening in your life right now, know that "this too shall pass." **


	39. Heartstrings

**Something special for you all today: this was co-written with SeaTheShadows! If you like it, go check out their profile!**

* * *

Jack had never been in this part of the Pole before. It seemed like it had been a while since anyone else had been here either. Dust motes danced through the sunbeams that filtered through the grimy windows, and there did not seem to be a living soul down this hallway.

Jack wasn't even sure how he had gotten here. He'd been bored and had decided to explore; he hadn't really paid attention to where his feet had been taking him, and now he was here. At the end of the hall an ornate wooden door stood slightly ajar.

He walked up to it and nudged it open. The hinges squealed loudly in protest and Jack winced. He slipped inside and looked around. The room was rather dark and even dustier than the hall had been. It was quite sizable but most of it was filled with boxes. A storage room, he presumed. The middle of the room was mostly empty other than a large shape covered in a sheet. Curious, he walked up to the object and pulled off the sheet in one grand flourish. When he saw what was underneath his breath caught in his throat.

It was a beautiful grand piano, pure black and with swirling designs inlaid into the lid and down the legs that ended in clawed feet. It was so dusty that Jack's finger left a trail when he ran it across the cover. Carefully, Jack opened the lid and propped it up. Glancing inside, he saw that the strings were not in too bad of a condition; it wouldn't be out of tune.

He lifted up the keyboard cover and looked at the keys, and then he blew the dust off of them with a cool breath of air.  
Slowly he sat down on the piano bench and set his staff on the ground. He placed his hand on the snow white keys and put his fingers in the right position. He played a simple scale and listened to the lingering notes.

This dusty old storage room had surprisingly good acoustics. He played a few more chords and then, after a pause, launched into the opening bars of a song.

It had been a long time since Jack had so much as touched a piano, and he was surprised he still knew how to play. He watched in amazement as his long, pale fingers flew across the keyboard like they had a mind of their own. He listened to the rich, complicated melody and wondered if it was really he who was making it. Soon he got lost in the rise and falls of the song; in a way, it was better than riding the wind. Jack didn't really need to think too much about what to do with his hands, and so he let his mind wander back in time to the first time he had played…

* * *

Jack had been wandering around a ghost town. It was one of the few places Jack could still go in what used to be barren wilderness. The settlers here had left because of a lack of water and freezing dry winters. Neither of those were a problem for him.

He walked around curiously near an old apothecary and played with some of the jugs and bottles, sniffing weird scents. He felt a little dizzy now. He probably shouldn't have that.  
Then he juggled the glass extract containers; the smooth surfaces were pleasing to his skin. He smiled and smirked, dancing and leaning back from foot to foot.

Crash!

Oops.

He realized he should have been more wary of how easily glass breaks. Oh well. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, right?

Jack decided to move on, for sometimes he felt uncomfortable playing with other people's stuff. What if they came back? He strolled over to a new house. It looked like it had been the dwelling place of one of the richer pioneers. He explored the area, scouting out new treasures. He saw some frilly dresses a closet. The door had long since rotted.

Upon further examination the dresses seemed to try to trigger something in the back of his mind. Jack didn't know why, but he felt like someone he used to see would have liked them. Not himself though. No way. That would be weird. He smiled, smelling the old perfume lingering on the fabric.

He backed out the broken down closet and walked backwards when he almost tripped on a wooden stool. He eyed it cautiously. He wanted to make sure that it was completely safe. He sat down when there was no further cause to suggest it would be hazardous. He then saw in front of him a weird contraption. It was wooden, upright and had no top. In front of the cabinet shaped back were strange rectangles of white (like his snow) and black like the nightmare sand he so disliked.

He pushed down on one of the buttons. It then emitted a sound. A note, his mind said. He didn't know why, but sometimes when he saw something the word would pop into his head. Maybe somewhere he had seen this before. Then his eyes traveled back to the bench when he spied yellowing papers underneath of it. He scanned for more, then, seeing there were none, took them. He then saw a word at the top. It said p-i-a-n-o.

That's what this was! It was a piano! He had seen it in the homes of happy people. What did they do again? They put their hands on the keys, and their thumbs went right below the label on what they called "Middle C". Then, they "read" these strange dots on the paper. Although, Jack didn't understand how you could read things that weren't words. He decided to just press them down randomly.

He had lots of fun making music. He remembered distantly that he used to sing. Maybe he could sing and play? Hmmm.  
He started to do so, but as soon as he started breathing his fingers fumbled. He got frustrated and decided to go slower.  
He was so engrossed in his cacophonic composition that he didn't notice someone walking in on his music session! The man looked at the keys moving on their own and ran away.

He thought this was a ghost town! Well, if people here weren't going to let him practice in peace, he might as well go somewhere else.

Jack made a vow that he would become the best "pianist" as he dubbed himself that the world had, just to show up that Easter Kangaroo who said he had no talent.

Who's going to be untalented now, Kangaroo?

_I bet that his paws couldn't even press the keys_, thought Jack.

* * *

Jack had kept true to his intentions. After that day whenever he heard someone playing the piano he would stop whatever he was doing to find whoever was playing and watch their hands moving across the keys and listen to the notes. He learned to read sheet music by seeing how the notes on the paper corresponded with the sounds. Oftentimes he would go to a piano teacher's house while they were having a lesson and absorb everything that was said. It was not the conventional way of learning, but then, Jack was unconventional by nature.

He practiced in churches and concert halls after hours, and this often caused many urban legends about ghosts. After half a century or so he had gotten so good he could play long pieces of music using both hands and the pedals without even looking at sheet music.

The last time he had played was on the stage of a concert hall before an audience of thousands; they had been waiting for a famous pianist to come on and Jack had thought it would be funny to play for them and see their reactions when the keys moved all by themselves. He had not been disappointed. He didn't really know why he hadn't played since then; he had just sort of lost interest when he couldn't have an audience that wouldn't scream and run away.

Jack finished off the last notes of the song with a flourish. He sat still for a moment as he listened to the last of the ringing vibrations fade away. Satisfied, he stood up and picked up his staff. He spun around to leave- and froze. Standing there in the doorway was North, his mouth open and his face the picture of amazement. Jack stood stock-still. He was caught red-handed.

"Um… Hi North," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. North didn't move, and Jack shifted uncomfortably. "I probably shouldn't have been in here… Sorry."

"Sorry?!" North erupted suddenly. Jack took an involuntary step back. "Why are you sorry? Jack, that was- it was-" he walked forward until he was in front of the piano, staring at it as if searching for the right words. Then he spun around to face Jack and said seriously, "It was красивый."

"Right…" Jack said unsurely. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"As you very well should! You have talent, my friend, amazing talent! You should play for the other Guardians."

Jack felt his face get warm. "The other Guardians? I don't think so, North."

"Why not? You played for me."

"I didn't know you were there!"

"How does that make a difference?"

"It makes a huge difference!" he nearly shouted. North, surprised, went silent, and Jack calmed himself. "Look, North. I don't want this to be a big deal, okay? So just forget about it."He turned and sped out the door, leaving North behind.

Jack wasn't entirely sure why he was so opposed to playing for people. It had been different when he knew nobody would see him, just the keys moving on their own. For some reason he thought that his music was something too intimate to be shared; it had been his solace in his times of loneliness. Just him, the keys, and the music. And he didn't want to spoil that.  
All the same, Jack couldn't deny how good it had felt to pour his soul into the music and actually get some recognition for it.

* * *

A month or so later Christmas arrived and went off without a hitch, and the Guardians were cordially invited to North's After-Christmas Party (and by cordially, North meant mandatory). Jack wasn't complaining, though. He wasn't the type to pass up offers like that.

He flew to the Pole and hovered outside the window to the globe room, composing his devil-may-care attitude. But as soon as he got inside he lost his cool demeanor. The place was filled with tons of Christmas decorations, even more than usual. The usual cheery atmosphere was also slightly more hyped up.

Tooth's brigade swarmed him and Jack smiled, flashing all the fairies with his scandalously white teeth.  
They fainted, diehard fans to the end. Tooth herself was talking to Bunny, but she did give him a little wave when he arrived.

Sandy floated over to him and greeted him with a wave as well.

"Hey, Sandy," Jack said to the golden man. "What's up?"

Sandy's face lit up like he had just been waiting for someone to ask him that and began forming images over his head in very quick succession, but before Jack could try to decipher their meaning North entered the room.

"Merry Christmas, everybody!" he boomed with an enormous grin. He had obviously just come back from the sleigh, for there was snow in his beard and on his coat and his cheeks were ruddy from the cold. His blue eyes were bright with happiness and excitement, and there seemed to be an extra spring in his step.

"Merry Christmas, North!" Tooth exclaimed, flying over to him. "Everything went well? No- ah-" she paused, "Disturbances?"

"Disturbances?" North repeated. "Well, there was the near collision with the airplane and the holdup when Dasher nearly broke his leg when he accidentally kicked the top of Mount Everest and-"

"I meant-" Tooth began, but stopped when North spoke again.

"I know what you meant, Toothy," he reassured her with a wink. "Everything is fine."

Jack and the rest of the Guardians crowded around North, bombarding him with questions about his trip all at once in one indecipherable mess of words. North held up a hand and silenced them all.

"First things first," North said. "I will answer all questions while we eat."

"Eat?" Jack repeated. "Didn't you just have cookies and milk from, like, a bajillion houses?"

"Yes," North said, glancing at him. "What about it?"

"Oh, nothing," Jack replied.

Not much time later they were all in the dining room and helping themselves to roast turkey, figgy pudding, gingerbread, and other Christmas dishes. After a while, once there was a lull in conversation, North spoke up.

"You know what would be wonderful right now?" he said.

"What?" Tooth asked absentmindedly as she used her fork to draw little outlines of teeth in the mashed potatoes on her plate.

"Music!" North exclaimed. "_Especially _piano music."

Jack glanced up at North, who was not-so discreetly giving him a meaningful look. He shook his head sharply and looked back down at his plate, suddenly becoming very interested in cutting his turkey.

Bunny noticed the silent exchange and looked back and forth between North and Jack in confusion. "Am I missing something here?" he asked.

Sandy nodded in agreement, also looking confused.

"Jack can play piano," North said bluntly.

Jack set down his fork and put his head in his hands. "North…" he groaned.

"And he plays very good, too," North added.

"North!" Jack said again, but he was ignored.

"You play the piano?" Tooth asked. "That's amazing! I wish _I _could play."

Sandy pointed at Jack and made an image of a piano over his head.

"I'm not going to play something, Sandy," Jack said. "There isn't even a piano in here, anyway."

North slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

He got up from his seat and headed over to a pile of presents that sat near a Christmas tree in the corner. Moving most of them around, he revealed the biggest one, a giant wrapped box with a bow as big as Sandy that took up most of the corner.

"For you, Jack," he said, turning to look at the winter spirit. "Merry Christmas."

Jack felt his face grow warm. "North… you didn't have to… I mean…"

"Do not give me any of that nonsense," North scoffed. "Just come over and open it!"

Jack went over and looked at the box. "Um… how?"

Not quite sure how to begin opening the enormous gift, he reached out to pull the wrapping paper off. As soon as his hand touched the box, however, it unfolded itself, revealing what it held. Jack couldn't help but gasp a little when he saw it.

It was a piano, but that was not what shocked him. He had been half expecting that, anyway. No, what made this piano different was what it was made of. The entire instrument seemed to be carved from ice, for it was a transparent blue that sparkled like diamond in the light. Snow dusted the top, and it was so easy for Jack to imagine himself sitting there and playing. He couldn't help himself; he reached out a hand to touch it, but drew back when he became aware of the other Guardians watching him.

"You see, you have no excuse now," North said smugly. "Now you must play us something."

Before Jack could answer, Bunny laughed in disbelief. "Jack, play the piano? There's no way he could sit still long enough for that!"

That was what decided it for Jack. Shooting Bunny a glare, he pulled up the piano bench and sat down. After cracking his fingers and looking nervously around at the others one more time, he took a deep breath and began to play.

After a few bars he heard Tooth gasp. "Oh, I love this song! C'mon Bunny, let's dance!"

"Wait, what-?" Bunny's protest was cut short as Tooth dragged him to the empty floor space to dance.

North chuckled at the sight, and then grabbed an unsuspecting yeti and pulled him into the dance as well. Jack suppressed a laugh at the yeti's bewildered expression that was so in contrast to North's jovial grin. Even Sandy had a partner that he had made from dreamsand and was currently floating across the dance floor with.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment and smiled, listening to the music and the laughter and the voices of his friends. He had forgotten what music could do- what it could stir in him, and what it could bring out in others. He couldn't imagine why he had ever stopped playing.

Soon the song dwindled to a close, and when it was over Jack was received with claps and cheers.

"That was beautiful!" Tooth cried.

"Okay, I'll admit it," Bunny said with a smile. "That was pretty good, Frostbite."

Jack's heart swelled and his face split into a grin. "Thanks."

Sandy gestured to him as if to say, _Another?_

"Sure," he replied, turning back to the piano. "I could do this all night."

Outside of the Pole the sun began to rise, and all throughout the world children awoke and discovered with joy that Santa Claus had come in the night. And as the homes of the children filled with laughter and song, so the entire North Pole rang with music.

* * *

**I think that is my longest one yet. I make the Guardians have a lot of parties, don't I? Well, I guess that's kind of a given when one of them is the Guardian of Fun, am I right?**

**The song I imagine Jack playing in the storage room is called "Thoughts". The song I imagine him playing at the Christmas party is Pachelbel's Canon in D. If you want to listen to them, the links are on my profile.**

**On an aside note, I happen to be going through a crisis right now because the device on which I stored _all _my writing got broken and now... _everything is gone. Everything! _The good news for you guys is that it doesn't really affect this story that much. The bad news is that now I have to spend a lot of time re-typing the things that it _did _affect and so updates may be slower than usual for a while. Just thought I would give you a heads up.**

**Also, there will most likely be a continuation for Blood and Shadows, just not yet for reasons that you will understand when it does come.**


	40. Things Can Change

**Me + Sad/Emotional Music + Being Alone All Day + Rain Outside = This**

* * *

It was getting dark in the city of Mumbai.

Many people who had been working or traveling all day retreated tiredly to their homes and hotel rooms, while at the same time the nocturnal people who thrived in the darkness emerged, heading for night clubs and parties and who knows where else. Millions of the people there welcomed the night, either as a chance to rest from the day's weariness or a time to go out and have some fun.

But one little girl, huddled up in a blanket on the muddy ground of one of the countless slums, did not.

She was about seven years old, but on the inside she had aged far more than anyone should have to at that age. She was one of thousands living in that particular slum, but even though she was surrounded by people she had never felt more alone. The night closed in with every passing second, and it brought with it the cold and the loneliness and the fear. The girl was scared of the dark, scared of the enormity and the unknown of the city, scared of the strangers that passed her by, but mostly scared of what would happen as soon as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

It was the same almost every night. As soon as she drifted off she would find herself in a calm, quiet place: a peaceful little lagoon in the middle of a beautiful rainforest. That was always the start. But whenever she began to relax and enjoy the dream, whenever she went and dipped her feet in the water or bent to smell the flowers or simply just laid back and stared at the forest canopy, things would begin to change. The water of the lagoon would start to bubble and boil, and out of its depths would rise horrible creatures with bodies like sea monsters and faces like humans. They would reach out to her with their slimy webbed hands, and would slowly, so slowly drag themselves towards her with eyes that were blank and cloudy and dead and mouths that would emit the most terrible groans of hunger.

And then she would always turn and run into the forest, but she would not get far before she heard the growls of the tigers that stalked her. She would stumble into a clearing and on the other side would be the biggest tiger of them all, and when it roared its mouth would open so wide that the girl knew it could swallow her in one gulp. She would scream, and then suddenly on either side her mama and her papa would appear, stepping between her and the tiger. She would tell them to stop, to not move toward the tiger because she would have the worst feeling in her gut that something awful was about to happen. But they would not listen to her, and as they stepped closer the tiger would suddenly turn into a man with a gun, and his eyes would be the same shade of glowing green as the tiger's eyes had been.

Then _bang, bang, _the man would shoot her mama and papa right in their hearts, and when they fell to the ground the earth would swallow them up. And before the girl could even call their names, the man with the gun would turn back into a tiger, but it would keep the man's face. Then more tigers would appear in the trees on every side, all of them with human faces that were evil and frightening and snarling. With the sound of more ghastly groans the monsters from the lagoon would join them, and they would close in on her and there would be no escape, no escape…

And then she would wake up with a scream and a cold sweat, and the trees of the jungle would become the Mumbai skyscrapers and the lagoon creatures and the tigers would become the passing strangers of the vast city. And then she would bury her face in her arms and cry herself back to sleep, where she would not dream again for the rest of the night.

She was jealous of all the little girls and boys she saw passing in the street, the ones who held their mamas' hands and rode on their papas' shoulders, the ones who laughed so easily and who could wake up from a nightmare to gentle arms and comforting whispers. But she had no one; no parents, no brothers or sisters, not even a single friend. Every day she lived in fear of the people of the city, and every night she lived in fear of the tigers and the monsters. Or maybe it was the other way around. Or maybe it was really just the same thing.

Sometimes she would listen to the other, happy children talk, just to hear what their life was like. Most of the time it was just silly or trivial things, but the girl liked to listen all the same. But the most interesting conversations were the ones that started with, _What did Santa Claus bring you for Christmas? _Or _The Tooth Fairy came last night! _Or _I can't wait until the Easter Bunny comes! _Or _The Sandman gave me a good dream last night. _Or, more recently, _Have you ever heard of Jack Frost?_

And those were the conversations that she loved to hear. Those were the ones that caused her to linger a short distance away so that she could hear every word they said, her eyes wide and transfixed. Those were wonders that she had never heard of. Well, perhaps she had, long ago, before the tigers had taken her parents. But she could scarcely remember that time.

Without really realizing it, however, their stories changed her. Before she had believed that no one cared for her, that she was just another homeless orphan in a world of millions. But now, somewhere deep inside her where before there had only been despair, there was now a spark of light. And that spark grew.

When she lost a tooth, she did not bother trying to put it under her pillow. She didn't even have a pillow. On that same day, however, she found a coin laying in the gutter not far from where she slept. Before she would have dismissed as coincidence. But now…

On Christmas she did not expect to get any presents; she never did. But to her surprise, as she wandered around the market that day a kindly old man gave her a mug of hot chocolate and a big candy cane absolutely free of charge. He winked and offered her a "Merry Christmas", but when she came back to thank him later he was gone. She never saw him again.

The snow was never something she appreciated before. It was cold and wet and only added to her misery, but she was able to see it in a different light now. It was really very pretty, the way the snowflakes danced through the sky on the playful gusts of wind. It cheered her up when she got into the type of mood where the entire world seemed ugly and cruel.

On Easter, she went digging through the chocolate shop's garbage in hopes of finding an extra treat for the occasion. Usually there was only ground up cocoa beans and empty wrappers, but to her surprise she found a whole unopened jumbo chocolate bar and, for some bizarre reason, a single rainbow painted egg. Not so long ago she would have called it a stroke of luck, but things were changing in her heart.

The light inside her grew, until one night the recurring nightmare changed. This time when her parents appeared, they did not approach the tiger. Instead they picked her up and laughed in the face of her fear. _What are you afraid of?_ They asked. _It's only a little kitten_. And indeed, the tiger changed not into the man with the gun but into a tiny baby cat, and all the other tigers came from the woods and turned into sweet fluffy cats as well, purring as they rubbed up against her legs. Then her parents carried her in their arms to the lagoon, and instead of the water being filled with sea creatures there were beautiful mermaids that sang and laughed and splashed happily. All the fear melted away, and for the rest of the dream the girl swam with the mermaids and petted the kittens and played with her parents, gorging her achingly empty stomach on the lush fruits that grew in the forest.

When she woke, the day was dawning. Suddenly filled with inexplicable happiness, she raced out of the slum and into a nearby park, climbing to the top of a hill and sitting in the grass. She watched the sunrise, the streaks of pink and orange and red and gold that slowly faded into blue. And for the first time in a long time, the girl smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered to the sky as the sun rose to illuminate the green grass and the flowers that grew in the park, little things of beauty that the girl had never thought to notice before.

And the city of Mumbai welcomed a new day.

* * *

**Don't know where that came from. Totally random idea about how the Guardians can change one child's life. You know what? I like it.**

**So, on a different issue, there is a poll on my profile about whether you would read a Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fic by me. I have already started plotting it and writing it and will probably post it no matter what the results of the poll are, but I just want to see what sort of reception it might get.**

**Also, 40 chapters is halfway to my goal! Whooo!**

**EDIT: I just realized it doesn't snow in Mumbai, but we're just going to overlook that.**


	41. This Is Halloween

The moon was big and full tonight. It was a harvest moon, as orange and as bright as the pumpkins that flickered on the doorsteps of the houses below. It set the perfect mood; spooky and mysterious and yet luminous enough to light the way. The streets were filled with creatures of every kind- ghosts, witches, vampires, and monsters walked alongside princesses, fairies, pirates, and robots. No two were exactly alike except for one thing: each of them shared a weakness for candy.

The neighborhood was filled with choruses of "trick-or-treat", the ringing of doorbells, and the sound of eerie music. Children in their costumes laughed and talked and sang, getting into the spirit of the night. Jack-o'-lanterns and the lit windows of the houses burned brightly through the darkness. One house, specifically designated to be "haunted", rang with screams and then with laughter when the "victims" realized they were safe.

But one place remained untouched by all this. The cemetery was dark and silent and misty, the atmosphere heavy with the presence of the dead. The quiet was suddenly disturbed, however, by hushed voices and the footsteps of a group that had dared to disturb the profound silence of the souls.

"This was a stupid idea. This was really, really, really, stupid."

"Stop complaining, Jamie."

Jamie swung the beam of his flashlight around to the face of the speaker, a boy dressed in a classic ghost costume. "Why shouldn't I be complaining, Claude? You insisted on coming to the graveyard after dark, and now we're lost!"

"Who knew this place was so huge?" Caleb murmured through his monster mask.

"Ca' w jus' ge ouda her'?"

"Pippa, take out your fangs. We can't understand you."

Pippa did just that, taking the plastic vampire fangs out of her mouth. "I said, can we just get out of here?"

"Easier said than done," Cupcake muttered, her dark expression totally contrasting the sparkly fairy princess costume she wore.

Jamie pointed the flashlight at one of the nearby tombstones. "We're in really far, you guys. Look, this person died back in the 1700s. That's, like, older than the United States! We need to get back to the modern sections."

"Which way is that?" Monty asked, nervously twisting his hands into his Darth Vader cape.

"We'll figure it out," Jamie said, taking a step forward. "So long as we have the flashlight, we-"

Suddenly, he tripped over a rock he could've sworn hadn't been there a second ago and the flashlight when flying, the bulb shattering against a stone grave marker. The meager beam of light winked out of existence, plunging the group into utter darkness. There was a moment of silence, then-

"You just had to say something, didn't you?" Caleb said accusingly.

Jamie stood up slowly. "I don't suppose anyone brought another flashlight?"

There was a collective murmur of "no"s.

"Of course not," Jamie sighed.

"I'm kind of freaking out over here," Pippa said, the pitch of her voice rising. "I keep thinking of that movie we watched…"

"Blame Jamie," Claude suggested. "He's the one who insisted on watching an R-rated slasher flick."

"How was I supposed to know they could make gore look that realistic?"

"You guys are a bunch of wimps," Cupcake snorted.

"Oh, really?" Caleb retorted. "Because I seem to remember you were the one that screamed the loudest when the girl's head-"

"Stop!" Pippa shouted, putting her hands over her ears. Then, seeming to realize how loud her outburst was, whispered, "Just… stop."

"Pippa's right," Monty said. "L-let's not talk about it. Not here. Not in the dark."

His words brought another silence upon the group as each of the children looked around nervously. The mist snaked around the tombstones like a living thing, easily cutting through their thin costumes and chilling them to the bone. The clouds in the sky above moved across the moon, blocking it out and making the cemetery even darker than before. The swaying of the trees' branches cast shadows like bony fingers across the ground. Jamie swallowed hard.

"Okay," he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Nobody panic, alright? Nobody panic."

"Panic? Who's panicking?" Claude said, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"We're just… um, we're just gonna go this way," Jamie decided, walking to his right.

The others followed, walking close together in an uneasy silence. An owl hooted in the distance. Somewhere on their left, there was a clattering noise, like something being dragged across the gravestones. Monty paused.

"Wh- what was that?"

Nobody answered him. Jamie fought to keep his breathing steady, even as he heard one of the others start to hyperventilate behind him. His heart rate picked up, painfully loud in his ears.

_Don't be scared don't be scared don't be scared, _he told himself sternly.

And so, of course, his mind instantly began to recall every scary story he had ever read and every horror movie he had ever seen.

A chilly breeze gently caressed his face, carrying with it the sound of unintelligible whispers. A prickle ran up and down his spine and he shivered.

"Okay, who's whispering?" he demanded.

"It's none of us, Jamie," Cupcake answered, an undertone of fear in her voice.

_Just keep moving, _he said to himself. The problem, however, was that he still had no idea where he was.

One of the others stepped on a twig, and the snapping noise caused them all to jump.

"Sorry," Caleb whispered.

Jamie kept going, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. But his hyperactive imagination took the weird, shifting shadows on the ground and turned them into profiles of monsters and ghosts, so instead he chose to just look straight ahead. After a few steps, however, he stepped on something hard and plastic. He looked down and lifted his foot, and saw an old baby doll, dirty and cracked with one eye missing and one half closed, still grinning up at him creepily. Pippa whimpered.

"T-this is getting _really _creepy, you guys," Claude said, his voice shaking.

Jamie said nothing, biting his lip and walking forward, albeit a little faster than before. On the other side of the row of tombstones, he imagined he heard a rustle of movement, and then footsteps. All the children stopped short, frozen in place by the sound. The steps came closer and closer, until they suddenly stopped. The hairs on the back of Jamie's neck rose and he spun around, getting the weirdest feeling that they were being watched.

And then, they all heard a quiet chuckle.

Jamie's heartbeat rocketed, and before he even knew what he was doing he ran. The others followed him, tripping over their costumes in their haste to get away. Breathing heavily, Jamie turned into the next row of tombstones. He spared a glance behind him at his friends, but then when he turned back around a figure jumped out from behind one of the tombstones.

"BOO!" it shouted.

Jamie screamed, backpedaling straight into his friends (who were also screaming bloody murder). They all tripped over each other and Jamie landed flat on his back against the cold hard ground, staring straight up into the grinning face of…

One very amused Jack Frost.

There was a beat of silence, and then Jack burst into uncontrollable laughter, overlapping the voices of the children as they all spoke at the same time.

"Jack!" Pippa exclaimed. "Why would you _do _that?!"

"Dude! Really?" Claude and Caleb said in unison.

"For the record, I knew it was you the whole time," Cupcake put in unconvincingly.

"Oh, thank goodness," Monty sighed in relief.

"Not cool, Jack," Jamie said, glaring up at him. "Not cool _at all._"

Jack paid them no mind. "Your faces," he gasped out, pausing to imitate a wide-eyed look of terror before lapsing back into laughter, leaning heavily on his staff. "Priceless!"

Jamie ignored him, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "That was all you?"

"Yeah," Jack admitted proudly. "You guys fell for every classic horror movie trick in the book!"

"In our defense," Caleb said, standing up, "You were very convincing."

"Why, thank you," Jack said with a grin.

"That was _not funny, _Jack," Pippa said. "_Not funny._"

"Well, you have to admit, it kind of was," Jack said, reaching out a hand to help her up.

Jamie smiled grudgingly. "Yeah, Pippa, was that you who was breathing really fast?"

"No!" she said defensively, taking Jack's hand and standing up. "That was Monty."

"Well… Jamie, you were the one who started running first!" Monty said, clambering to his feet.

"What about Claude?" Cupcake threw in. "His voice was so high he sounded like a girl!"

"Really, miss 'I'm–not-scared-of-anything?'" Claude said. "I seem to remember you jumped just as high as the rest of us when Caleb stepped on that stick!"

There was a pause, and then Caleb said, "Okay, so maybe it was a _little _bit funny…"

They all chuckled a little bit, realizing how stupid they must have looked. There was nothing really scary about this cemetery, after all, not with Jack's staff glowing brightly to keep the shadows at bay and his laughter to banish all the remnants of fear in their minds.

"Wow, you guys really are lost," Jack said, looking around as he helped Jamie to his feet. "This part of the graveyard has been here since colonial times."

"Yeah, we figured that out already," Caleb said as he grabbed onto his twin and pulled himself up. "Do you know which way is out?"

"Yep," Jack said, waving his staff. A trail of frost blazed its way down the path. "That way."

The group began following the trail, Jack walking with them.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Jack?" Jamie asked curiously. "It's only October."

"Officially?" Jack said. "I'm on 'Halloween Pitch Watch'. In reality, though, I'm just here to enjoy the holiday."

"You're not worried?" Pippa asked.

"Worried?" Jack repeated. "Psh, no. Halloween might be about being scared, but it's a good kind of scared. The thrilling kind that you look back on the next morning and say, 'Wow, that was fun!' Pitch doesn't know anything about having fun. That's _my _specialty." He gave them a questioning glance. "What were you all doing in this part of the graveyard, anyway?"

"Claude's idea," Cupcake piped up. "He bet that we were too chicken to go all the way in, out of view of the street."

"How did you know we were back here?" Monty asked.

"Oh, I was already here," Jack answered. "I was… um, doing stuff when I heard you lot trampling around loud enough to wake the dead." He glanced around. "Literally."

The sound of trick-or-treaters was becoming audible now as the exit to the cemetery came into view. Jamie turned to face his friends.

"There's still an hour or so left before trick-or-treating is over," he said. "Let's go get our candy bags and hit a few more streets. Wanna come, Jack?"

"Yeah, sure. So long as you share some of your candy with me."

The group stopped by Jamie's house where they had all left their pillowcases full of loot and set out through the streets. Several times, passing kids gave Jack wide-eyed stares as they went past, including some that Jamie knew for a fact didn't believe. Confused, he pointed this out to Jack.

Jack smiled. "That's the great thing about Halloween," he said. "People have always thought that it was the night when all the supernatural beings come out to play. It's the one night when they'll believe in anything. And that includes me." His smile faded a little as he said, "Of course, most of them lose it the next day, and most don't even know what they're looking at. But I always enjoy it while it lasts."

A few hours later they all gathered in Jamie's living room, sprawled on the floor or the couch. Sophie, who had returned from trick-or-treat rather early, had started watching _The Nightmare Before Christmas._ It played in the background as Jamie and his friends started in on their candy.

Jack, as it turned out, was a big fan of lollipops and licorice, while Jamie didn't much care for either. So, he let him have all the ones in his bag. He watched as Jack methodically sucked on a strawberry Tootsie Pop while ripping open a pack of Twizzlers, and somehow managing to eat those at the same time.

"Tooth is going to murder me," he said cheerfully, throwing aside his empty sucker stick and pulling the wrapper off a new one.

The others laughed in agreement. Jamie unwrapped a chocolate bar and bit into it, the sweet flavor coating his tongue. "Mmmm…" he said. "I love Halloween."

_What's This? _began playing on the TV. Jack leaned back into the couch, humming along absentmindedly while a few snowflakes floated down around him.

"You know what we should do?" Claude said. "We should go teepee someone's house."

Pippa rolled her eyes. "And Claude the 'great-idea-man' amazes us yet again with his brilliance," she said sarcastically.

"You do know that's illegal, right?" Monty said.

"Yeah," Claude answered. "But it's _fun_!"

Jack laughed and gave Claude a look of grudging approval. "You have potential, young Jedi," he joked.

An hour later Jamie's friends decided to return to their homes, leaving Jamie, Jack, and Sophie alone in the living room while the ending credits of the movie scrolled down the screen. Sophie had fallen asleep on the floor, curled up amongst her strewn out candy. The antennae of her butterfly costume were falling halfway off her head.

"Well, I guess that's the end of another Halloween," Jamie said.

Jack looked at Jamie incredulously. "The end? I don't think so." With a grin, he held out a roll of toilet paper that he seemed to conjure from thin air.

Jamie stared at him. "We can't teepee someone's house! You heard Monty, it's illegal!

Jack shrugged. "Only if you get caught." When Jamie didn't answer, he said, "Oh, come on, Jamie! It's Halloween! And besides, I happen to know of a certain busted-up bed in the woods that could use some decoration."

Jamie hesitated, and then gave in with a sigh. "Okay, fine."

Jack whooped in excitement and eagerly jumped off the couch and flew over to the door. Jamie joined him as he opened it.

"You're a terrible influence on me, you know that?"

Jack grinned. "I know."

* * *

**I swear, these things go from serious to crackish in a heartbeat.**

**Anyway, that ROTBTD story I was talking about is up. Prologue and chapter one. If you're interested, go check it out. And, um, that's another thing that might slow updates to this story down. **


	42. You Don't Know Me Yet

**Inspired by a picture I saw on deviantart by the artist VanRah. Web address: van rah . deviant art /ROTG-Easter-Hunt-349997701?offset=190**

* * *

The fresh smell of dew on grass greeted Bunnymund as he emerged from his rabbit hole. The cool spring breeze ruffled his fur, whispering a gentle welcome. The brightly colored flowers swayed, blooming just a little bit fuller in his presence.

Bunny had no time to enjoy the Easter morning, however. He was running a bit behind schedule, and though many of the eggs had positioned themselves he still had a few baskets to deliver personally. He paused for a moment to figure out where he was. The sights, smells, and sounds all came together to help him recognize his location.

He was in Burgess, one of those little colonial settlements that kept popping up with increasing frequency on this continent. It was a relatively new town, with only a few children- but that was why Bunny had come personally. It was important to plant a strong seed of belief in this village while it was still young, so that it would blossom as the village grew.

The sun was just above the horizon, and the sky was lightening from the sunrise colors of red, orange, and gold to a beautiful morning blue. The hunt would be starting soon, if it hadn't already. Bunny had to hurry. Quickly he hopped to hide the eggs in different places: trees, bushes, overgrown patches of grass, empty bird nests, and wherever else he could find. Soon there was only one egg left in the basket, a blue and green one with a few tiny cracks. Bunny frowned at the cracks, but decided to hide it anyway as they were hardly noticeable.

He crouched down to a nearby bush and ducked under it to hide the egg near the roots- only to find his furry face mere inches from a child's freckled one.

Bunny dropped the egg and froze, staring straight at the child. It was a little boy about six or seven years old, with russet eyes that went impossibly huge at the sight of him. His mop of brown hair had bits of leaves and twigs in it from searching under the bush. His little mouth dropped open in surprise, and he went speechless.

_Whoops, _Bunny thought. He smiled a little at the little boy, trying to redeem himself.

"Hello," he said kindly. "Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

The boy's mouth closed and opened without sound, until he managed to get out, "Are… are you the Easter Bunny?"

"Sure am, kiddiwink."

The boy looked like he was trying to think of something to say, but all he managed to come up with was, "You're _huge_!"

Bunny chuckled. "I know."

A woman's worried voice floated over to the bush from a fair distance away. "Jackson! Jackson, where are you?"

The little boy glanced over his shoulder at the voice, hesitating with indecision. He turned back to stare at Bunny, reluctant to tear his gaze away.

"Is that your mother?" Bunny asked.

The boy nodded.

"You'd better get back to her, then."

Still the boy stayed, wavering in place.

"Jackson! Oh, come on, Jackson, don't do this _again_!"

Bunny laughed. "Again? You a bit of a troublemaker, mate?"

The boy frowned, tiny lines crinkling his forehead. "My mama… she worries a lot."

"Well, go on then. You don't want to give her too bad of a fright."

The boy bit his lip. "But- but you- you're- I mean, you're _the Easter Bunny_! Right here! In front of me!" His eyes were still big as saucers, trying to take Bunny in all at once as if he were afraid he was going to disappear if he blinked.

Bunny shook his head with a smile. "I'll be back next year," he assured him. He reached down to the ground and picked up the egg he had dropped, brushing some dirt off the blue and green painted surface "Jackson? Is that your name?"

The boy nodded again. "Yes… but everyone calls me Jack."

"Call me Bunny," he replied, running his hand over the little cracks on the egg and using a simple bit of nature magic to heal them. He held the egg out to the boy. "Happy Easter… Jack."

The boy reached out and carefully took hold of the egg in his small hands, handling it as if it were a precious jewel. He looked up at Bunny adoringly and smiled brightly. "Happy Easter… Bunny."

"Jackson, honestly!"

Bunny laughed once more and reached out a paw to ruffle the little ankle-biter's already messy hair. "Stay out of trouble, Jack," he said. Then he turned and hopped out of the bush.

Just as he was about to open up a tunnel he chanced a look back, seeing Jack crawl out of the other side of the bush and run over to his mother, proudly holding up the egg and chattering about a mile a minute. His mother smiled at him as he laid a hand on her slightly bulging stomach and began talking to it. Bunny felt a surge of hope and belief surge through him like adrenaline-fueled strength running through his veins. Then he tapped his foot and jumped into the newly formed hole in the ground, within moments leaving the town of Burgess and the little boy Jack far behind.

Years passed, and over time Bunny's memory of that day and that boy faded into that of another of countless believers. But for the rest of Jackson Overland's (admittedly short) life, he never forgot the magical meeting he had one fair Easter morning.

* * *

**... Until he lost his memories, of course.**

**To the Guest with a question a couple chapters back: I don't really know how they make chocolate, I just sort of assumed they used cocoa beans and crushed them up and then threw out the used shells or something, so my reasoning was that if she was going through the trash of a chocolate shop then she might find ground up cocoa beans in there.**


	43. What Might Have Been

Antarctica was a cold, austere place. There was little life to be found there, only sky, snow, and water as far as the eye could see. It was bleak, and yet beautiful in its own way. Some days, when the gray clouds heavy with snow that hung low over the icy surface lifted, the huge formations of ice would stand against a pure blue sky, the bright sunlight sparkling off the freezing land below.

Antarctica was a vastly unexplored land. It was full of unforeseen surprises, from colonies of penguins to caverns hidden in the ice to beautiful landscapes that had yet to be discovered. And, in the most secluded part of the continent, past jagged cliffs and hidden crevices and endless expanses of untouched snow, in a place that no human had ever laid eyes on and that was almost never ventured upon even by the animals that lived there, was perhaps the most unexpected thing of all.

A towering structure dominated the landscape, huge, sharp spikes jutting out in a chaotically beautiful explosion of blue and black. The ice it was made of glittered in the sun, contrasting with the black sand in it that repelled all light. Any human to discover the sight would have no idea how it had gotten there or even how it was made. There were only two souls on the whole of the earth that knew the truth behind the sculpture. And one of them was perched on the top of his staff before it, lost deep in his own thoughts.

Jack stared at his reflection, looking but not really seeing. He sat there, and he wondered…

What if?

What if things had been different?

What if he had said yes?

Yes or no, dark or light, two sides of a coin. Pitch on one side, the Guardians on the other, and he the metal in between. Forced to choose which way to fall, for everyone knew that the chances of a coin landing balanced on its side were next to nothing, and even if it did all it would take was the slightest nudge to send it toppling in either direction.

Jack had made his choice, and never once had he regretted it. He knew it was the right one. But that didn't mean he didn't still come back and remember that day, imagining how it could have gone had things been just a tiny bit different.

Who knew what his life would have been like at Pitch's side? The Guardians would have disappeared, certainly, faded away as everything they stood for vanished from the hearts of the children they were sworn to protect. He never would have heard North's booming laugh again, or challenged Bunny to a race through the Warren, or made Tooth and her helpers swoon over his smile, or felt that warm, sleepy, glow of a feeling that followed Sandy wherever he went. The busy North Pole would have been left empty and buried under the snow, the magnificent Tooth Palace would have crumbled away into ruins, and the Warren that was usually so full of life would have withered away and died, the flowers and the grass and the trees becoming dry husks of what they had once been.

And as for his believers… well, Jack didn't know if Pitch had been being truthful when he had offered him all the believers in the world, but even if he had it wouldn't be the same. There was a difference between belief in the Guardians and belief in Pitch. Belief in the Guardians was like a friendship, being there to lend a little extra strength and always being able to count on support when things were bad. But belief in Pitch was like… like _slavery_, forced to be a source of power while getting nothing but fear and unhappiness in return. Jamie, his friends, and all the children of the world would have been like slaves to Pitch, living lives of misery and imprisoned each night in nightmares they would never be able to escape. Perhaps they would have been able to see Jack, but their eyes would be filled only with terror and sadness when they looked upon him.

With an all-powerful Pitch to aid him, Jack could have easily overtaken the other seasonal spirits and claimed the cycle of nature as his own. He could have covered the whole earth in snow if he so desired; the entire world could have looked like Antarctica. And while Jack, personally, would not have minded that at all, there was a reason no one lived in Antarctica. People lived for the green and the warmth and the light. Even the most hardcore lovers of winter tired of it after a while, longing for spring to arrive in a breath of fresh air and a flutter of wings and a splash of bright colors. No one in their right minds wished it could be winter forever. No one wanted to be cold and wet and stuck indoors any longer than they had to.  
And Jack himself… he most definitely would have changed, his center twisting into something dark and sinister. Fun was a multi-faceted concept, after all. There was the good kind of fun that everyone involved enjoyed, a game played amongst friends or an innocent joke shared to encourage a good laugh. There was the nasty sort of fun at someone else's expense, a bully and his gang smirking over an unfortunate victim. And then there was the maniacal "fun" like that a cat has when it plays with a mouse before it eats it, or when a crazed serial killer does much the same. Jack had little doubt about which type his center would have become.

Jack knew he had made the right decision, that this world he had helped save was much better- brighter and happier and sweeter- than the world Pitch would have created, the world Jack could have helped him make. And yet…

The Guardians hated Pitch. Jack saw it in their eyes when they spoke of him. He saw a hatred born of being the victims of evils that they had never told him about. The history between them was too messy, and the scars ran too deep for them to feel any other way. Jack had never asked what, exactly, Pitch had done to them; frankly, he didn't think he wanted to know. The Guardians were the most welcoming and forgiving people he knew. Whatever had happened between them and Pitch, it must have been pretty bad.

Jack knew he should probably hate Pitch too, after what he had tried to do recently. Not to mention it seemed to be a general (albeit unspoken) requirement of being a Guardian. But as much as he tried to… he couldn't.

Because the thing was, he _understood. _He understood why Pitch had tried to take over, understood why he had tried to get Jack on his side, understood what he wanted. The coin had, for a moment, balanced on its side before it fell, and in that moment Jack had seen both sides perfectly. Pitch had, if only for a second, laid the truth out before him; he had seen the sincerity in his face. And the truth was, they were much more similar than Jack would have liked. Because of this- this understanding and this strange sort of kinship- Jack could not hate Pitch.

He remembered when Pitch had been defeated and when Jamie had run right through him. He remembered the look of shock and despair on his face. He remembered watching as Pitch was dragged away, imprisoned by his own nightmares. And he remembered wondering if perhaps he should have helped.

Not helped Pitch _win_, no. That was something he would never do. But maybe helped him realize that fear had its proper place in the world just like everything else, maybe helped the Guardians realize it too. He knew how much it hurt to be walked through, to be ignored- but the Guardians didn't. The Guardians had never been in such a situation where they went unnoticed among a crowd. They wouldn't understand his pity towards Pitch.

Ah. And there it was, the truth beneath it all. _Pity_. He didn't hate Pitch because he pitied him, pitied him because though they had been in the same boat at one point they certainly weren't now. Pitied him because Jack had seen what was right and had found something better, while Pitch remained a slave to his own darkness.

He told no one of this, of course. The Guardians wouldn't be able to fathom how he could _possibly _pity Pitch, and Pitch himself would be too proud to consider it anything but an insult. So he had stood and he had watched, only watched as Pitch was dragged away back to his dismal hole in the ground. And, well, he didn't know about the other Guardians, but he had felt just the smallest twinge of regret.

That feeling had been quickly lost, however, in the intoxicating joy of victory and the surge of pride as he became a Guardian. But these feelings had a way of coming back around and haunting him, and he couldn't ignore them forever. He found here to be the best place to think things through, the place where the coin had teetered on its edge.

Jack jumped off his staff and walked closer to the sculpture. He reached out and pressed his hand up against the surface, the ice refreshingly cold against his skin. He raised his gaze to his reflection, and a jolt went through him to see the reflection of Pitch standing right behind him.

He pulled his hand back and spun around, but there was no one there, only the wind whistling forlornly across the snow. He glanced back and saw Pitch's reflection was still there, and his own reflection hadn't moved. He waved his hand back and forth, but his reflection remained still. His other self turned to face Pitch and nodded, extending his hand. Pitch took it and the two shook.

Jack watched as his other self fell to his knees, clutching his head in pain. Nightmare sand began to swirl around him in a vortex of black that obscured him from view. Pitch stood by passively, watching blankly as the sand moved faster and faster, eventually coming to a climax where it burst out in every direction, revealing his other self curled up into a ball on the ground. Slowly his other self stood up, his back to Jack and his hood pulled up. He turned to face him, and Jack saw his other self had skin as gray as Pitch's, hair as black as it had once been white, and eyes that were so dark blue they were almost black.

And Pitch smiled.

Jack blinked and the image was gone, his normal reflection back once again. He shivered slightly and shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the disturbing sight. It was this place, and the darkness that surrounded it; it caused his own mind to betray him. Jack stepped back from the sculpture and turned aside. The wind wrapped around him and he allowed it to carry him away.

The dark version of himself trapped within the ice flickered into being, watching him go with his shadowy blue-black eyes.

* * *

**I'm not really sure where I was going with this... I started out strong but it sort of went downhill at the end.**

**Alright, all you ROTG fans. Time to prove your worth. There has been talk for a while that William Joyce wants to make a sequel, but Dreamworks is thinking of ****_not _****making a sequel. There is a link to a petition on my profile that has about 270 signatures but needs over 9,000. It's got a long way to go, but with your help we can get there. Tell your friends and spread the word! Repost the link on your profile! Let's prove what this fandom can do!**


	44. Fear in the Heart

Jack's knuckles went white as he gripped the wood of his staff tightly, as if it was his only lifeline that anchored him when everything else was slipping away. He felt like he was falling; the room swayed beneath his feet and his vision went blurry. He could hardly even hear North speaking over the pounding of his heart.

"Jack Frost, Spirit of Winter and Guardian of Fun, you have broken the number one rule of Guardianship. You have killed a child."

Jack looked up, seeing the other four Guardians standing in a solemn row before him, North holding the Book of Guardians in his hands and reading from it.

"Such a crime is unforgivable and will not be tolerated."

Every one of them looked at him coldly, disappointment and hatred emanating from them in waves that threatened to knock him over.

"Having gone against your duty of protecting the children of the world, you must be punished. You will be stripped of your Guardianship and your believers, and will return to the spirit world to be shunned as an outcast."

Jack was breathless as he looked at each of the Guardians in turn, searching for some warmth, some friendship, some forgiveness. But there was none.

"This punishment is effective immediately. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

The world was spinning now as Jack leaned heavily on his staff for support, tears threatening to obscure his vision.

"I'm- I'm so sorry… It was an accident, a blizzard that got out- out of control… I never wanted this to happen…"

North's voice was mercilessly emotionless as he said, "That does not matter. Apologies will not undo what has happened. What you have done cannot be forgiven."

"Please…" he whispered. "I c-can't go back to that… t-to being invisible…"

He looked imploringly at Tooth, who only looked away as if she could even stand to look at him, a killer. He turned his gaze to Bunny, but he only glared back with vicious ferocity. Even Sandy shook his head as Jack looked at him, deep in sorrow for the child's life that had been lost. North raised his eyes briefly before looking back down to the book, plodding forward with the proceedings.

"Your believers will be taken away as follows," he said. Then he began reading from a list of names, a list that was not so long compared to the others', but was so much longer than Jack had ever hoped. So many children who could see him and touch him and talk to him, and one by one by one they were all being lost. He felt it deep within his soul, a pain and sorrow that grew with every name read.

Finally, North neared the end of the list, and Jack knew there were only a few names left.

"Claude. Caleb. Cupcake. Monty. Pippa. Sophie."

Only one left now. How fitting that his first believer would also be his last.

"Jamie."

Jack gasped when a bolt of lightning pain streaked through him, as if a part of him was being violently ripped away. His knees suddenly weakened as the pain subsided, leaving only a horrible sort of emptiness behind. Jack's tears were falling freely now; there was a moment of silence as he attempted to collect himself.

North closed the book with a heavy thud. "Farewell, Jack Frost. You are now, and forevermore, stripped of your Guardianship and banished to solitude in the spirit world."

Two yetis grabbed him by the arms and began dragging him out of the room. The reality of what was happening set in, and Jack began to struggle wildly in their grasp.

"W-wait!" he screamed. "Please, don't! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll do anything, just don't! _Please!_"

But the yetis paid no attention to his desperate cries, and the Guardians themselves held no pity in their expressions. They were cold, so cold. He had one last glimpse of their unforgiving faces before the yetis threw him out the front doors, causing him to fall into a snowdrift.

It was dark outside, dark and cold and empty. Jack knew that nothing but sorrow and loneliness waited for him out there, haunting the snowy plains and yearning for their old companion. And Jack knew, he just _knew, _that he couldn't go back to that. He _couldn't_. The thought of spending eternity alone and shunned as a traitor sparked hot panic and terror inside him, and he tried to get past the yetis back inside. But they would not let him through.

With another rough push he was shoved forcibly back, and he fell once again into the snow. Before he could get back up the doors swung closed with a terrible, final-sounding boom. The scraping sound of a lock could be heard, and even as Jack stumbled to his feet and frantically pulled on the doors he knew it was no good. Yet he could not stop his screaming, his begging, his crying.

"I-I'm sorry!" he cried over and over and over again. "I am! Please, just believe me! It was an accident! Let me come back, please, I can't be alone again, I… I just _can't_."

His voice broke and so did his spirit as he pressed his forehead against the wooden doors, sobbing unashamedly. The doors did not open for him, and Jack knew they never would. Even the wind abandoned him, whistling a lonely tune across the dark, empty, snow-covered plain.

* * *

Jack's eyes flew open as he gasped, and he found himself half buried in a snowdrift. Confused, he looked around at his surroundings and realized he must have fallen from the tree he had been in during his sleep. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky, which was still dark and studded with stars- stars that shone especially bright without the moon to outshine them. It was a new moon tonight.

Jack dragged a hand down his face and took several deep breaths, trying to slow his breathing and calm his heart. He was fine, everything was fine. None of that had been real. It had just been a nightmare. Not just a nightmare, either, but a recurring nightmare. The same one he had had for five nights in a row now. It never changed, and it was always just as bad as it had been the first time.

He was getting sick of it.

Jack stood up and picked up his staff, heading purposefully to the trees on the other side of his lake. He sighed. Some people had neighbors with annoying dogs that woke them up in the middle of the night, and then some people had neighbors with an annoying habit of giving people nightmares. Although that was probably just him.

Jack pushed through the thicket of bare bushes and into the clearing, in the center of which was an old, crumbling bed frame of wood. The bed, and the hole underneath it, had reappeared just a few months after the Guardians had defeated its occupant. They had been on high alert for a few weeks past this discovery, but after no signs of aggression they had slackened off a bit. Jack himself had not even seen Pitch since his defeat; in fact there were barely any traces of him at all other than a few stray nightmares they had not managed to clean up the first time around.

Jack hesitated before the bed and began pacing back and forth in indecision. Going to confront Pitch was not smart, he knew, not smart at all. He may not be at his full power, but the Guardians had assured him that the dark spirit was still dangerous. Not to mention Pitch probably held a particularly strong animosity towards Jack, seeing as he _was _the reason victory had slipped through Pitch's grasp. It was best to just leave him be to lick his wounds; approaching a wounded wild animal was never a good idea, no matter how harmless that animal may seem. That was just common sense.

But then, Jack really didn't want to deal with these nightmares every night. He could go back to his old sleeping pattern of light sleep and no dreams, but he had sort of adjusted to getting into the deep sleep cycle and didn't much feel like reverting back to his old ways. And it wasn't like he was just going to _let _Pitch get away with it. The other Guardians would have insisted on coming with him as backup had he told them, but this was such a small matter, really, and it wasn't as if he couldn't handle it himself. He didn't want to seem whiny and weak by gathering all the Guardians together just because he had had a couple nightmares. It wasn't worth it.

Of course, if he had told the Guardians then he probably wouldn't be here at all, seeing as they would have strongly advised him against it. Still…

Jack stopped in front of the bed and gazed down into the dark hole. He sighed again.

_You're an idiot, _he chided himself. _An absolute idiot._

"I know," he said aloud. Then he jumped through the gaps in the bed frame and down into the darkness.

Pitch's lair was much like he remembered, although admittedly in worse shape. The cages hung from the ceiling, empty now that their prisoners had been freed. The bridges that crisscrossed through the place were cracked and crumbling, and as were the stone walls. In the center of the lair where Pitch's globe had once been was nothing but scraps of metal, the globe obviously having been torn apart in anger long ago. But Jack could not see Pitch himself.

Slowly he took a few steps forward, scanning the lair for the nightmare spirit. His hand tightened slightly around his staff as he tensed, ready for Pitch to pop out at any moment.

"Nice of you to visit, Jack."

The voice came from behind him. He spun around, but saw no one there.

"I was starting to think I'd been forgotten."

Jack looked up and realized that Pitch was in one of his own cages that hung crookedly from the ceiling and was missing a door. He sat with his back against the bars, his head bent as he fixed his gaze on something he held in his palms. He glanced up at Jack for a moment.

"Here to gloat? Or were you just feeling sorry for poor old Pitch?"

"No," Jack only said, unable to come up with something better to say. He hadn't actually taken the time to think of what he would say when he actually found Pitch, and cursed himself for standing here silently like an idiot.

A subtle bite crept into Pitch's tone. "Then what do you want?"

"I want you to stop it," Jack said, inwardly wincing at how childish that sounded.

"Stop what?" Pitch asked innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about," Jack answered. "The nightmares. Stop it."

Pitch rolled his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, Jack, I'm actually _not_ responsible for every single nightmare any person has ever had."

"Why should I believe you?" Jack asked.

"Are you to blame for every single snowfall there has been since your creation?" Pitch retorted. "Every flurry? Every blizzard? Every frosted pane of glass?"

Jack didn't reply, but his silence was answer enough.

"Exactly. I didn't give you whatever nightmare you've been having, Jack. You gave it to yourself."

Jack's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, I gave it to myself?"

"The beautiful thing about fear," Pitch murmured, "Is that it causes your own mind to betray you. It starts in your heart and slowly grows, devastating you little by little from the inside out."

He held out his hand, revealing a bright yellow flower in his palm. A tiny spot of black dotted the center, but as Jack watched it gradually widened, withering the plant and blackening its bright petals.

"People fear things because they know there is a very real possibility they might come true. A mother fears her child being run over in the street, a child fears being lost and abandoned by the ones who are supposed to guard them, and almost all mortals fear death- which is, of course, inevitable."

Pitch looked up from watching the flower decay and fixed his eyes on Jack. "Whatever you've been having nightmares about, you know in your heart that it could happen, and even that it _will_ happen, eventually…"

The flower continued to be consumed, curling in on itself as all the life was drained out of it by the growing blackness.

The corners of Pitch's mouth twitched. "And it's destroying you."

The last of the flower crumbled into dust, trickling through Pitch's fingers and gently floating down to settle at Jack's feet.

Jack stared at the remains for a moment as Pitch's words whispered through his mind, echoing over and over again like the hiss of a snake. He shook his head hard, attempting to clear it, before looking back up to where Pitch still gazed down on him.

"You're wrong," he said.

"You seem awfully sure about that," Pitch replied, unfazed. "Considering I _am _the expert on these things."

"It would never happen," Jack said vehemently. "Never."

Pitch gave him a scrutinizing look. "It's not me you have to convince, Jack. It's yourself. Because you know it's true, deep down."

"No," Jack said, raising his staff. "It's _not. _Stop the nightmares, Pitch, or-"

"Or what?" Pitch interrupted. "You'll make me? Attack me when I'm already defeated? That's not very honorable of you, is it?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Just keep them away from me." He spun on his heel and headed towards the exit.

"It's never a good idea to turn your back on your enemy, you know," Pitch's voice called after him.

Jack turned back around to face him. "It's not like you can do anything to me at the moment," he said.

"Maybe not," Pitch admitted. "But I wouldn't be so dismissive if I were you, Frost." His eyes glinted dangerously. "You might regret it someday."

Jack glared at him for a moment before turning to leave again, half expecting an attack from behind. When none came he continued walking, flying back up the hole and into the fresh air.

He looked back at the lonely bed in the middle of the clearing, concealing the ominous black pit underneath. A cool breeze stirred up from its depths, carrying with it the dust of the blackened flower.

* * *

**Ok, how many of you thought that nightmare was real at first? Haha :)**

**Right. Time for important stuff. Today was my first day of school, which unfortunately for you means the rate of updates goes waaaay down. I was looking at my schedule and I can already tell it will be easy to get overwhelmed, so unfortunately writing gets pushed to the back burner. I won't have much time for it, and what little writing I do have time for will probably be mostly used for my story that actually has a plot. Don't worry; I'll still update, just much slower. I still have a goal of 80 oneshots. If I were you I'd look forward to winter. Fall sports will be over then and I'll have just a little bit more time. Thanks for understanding!**


	45. Video Games

**Hey! Look who it is! Shocking, I know. But I actually managed to write another chapter! Whooo!**

**I toyed with the idea of making that last one into an arc, but I think I like leaving it hanging... for now...**

**Oh, and the mood for this one is pretty much the opposite of the last one.**

* * *

There were three fundamental elements of childhood that Jamie could not believe Jack had never experienced. The first was s'mores, which Jamie wasn't sure he should have introduced the winter spirit to, since it seemed like he was becoming mildly addicted to them as he asked for one every time he randomly showed up at Jamie's house. But then there were worse things to be addicted to, he supposed.

The second was playing fetch with a dog. Jamie's attempt at fixing that particular problem, however, resulted in an incident he would rather forget involving Abby, a tennis ball, a sled, and a group of kids on skateboards. His mom said he was lucky nobody had pressed charges.

And the third was video games.

The day Jamie discovered this gaping hole in Jack's life was a snow day- no surprise there. Burgess had always been infamous for getting lots of snow days, and ever since Jamie had met Jack they had only increased in frequency. Maybe he _did _have to go a little overtime into the summer to make up for it, but it was totally worth it.

Jamie spent the day hanging out with his friends, and once Jack showed up the real fun started. After an hour or two, once the snowball fight was over and they gave up on their failed attempt at building an igloo, they decided to go sledding at Daisy Hill- which, despite its deceivingly sweet name, was the biggest, baddest, steepest sledding hill in town. If you took one wrong step while climbing up it, you would be sent sliding on your face all the way back down- and it was quite a long way. It was mostly teenagers that braved the slope, jeering to Jamie and his friends that it wasn't for "little kids".

So, of course, they went anyway. And with the spirit of winter itself on their side, it was soon the teenagers that were slipping backwards on their butts and Jamie and his friends that were zooming past on their sleds at incredible speeds, the wind propelling them forward faster than they ever could have gone on their own.

After a while, once their fingers and toes had gone numb and their cheeks were pink from the cold, they dispersed to go home and sit by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate. That was the plan anyway- at least, until Jamie's conversation with Jack as he walked home with him, when he was telling Jack about all the cool things he got for Christmas.

"I think my favorite thing was the Kinect and all the games I got with it. Kinect is really cool because you move around and the camera senses you and you can control what's on the screen without even needing a remote."

"Really?" Jack said, sounding intrigued.

"Yeah, I'll show it to you when we get back. Maybe we can play a game, like COD or something."

Jack looked confused. "Cod? You want to play with a fish?"

Jamie laughed. "Not _cod, _C- O- D. It stands for Call of Duty. You know, the war video game?"

Jack's expression remained blank.

"Seriously? You've never played Call of Duty before? Dude, _all _the guys around here play it!"

"I've never played any video game before, actually," Jack replied.

Jamie stopped in his tracks. "You… you haven't?"

Jack shook his head. "Nope. I mean, I sort of know how they work from watching people at arcades and stuff, but it's not like I can walk in and join them. The closest I've come is when I accidentally got myself locked inside a video game store overnight."

"How did that work out for you?" Jamie asked, curious.

Jack waved a hand. "Oh, you know, caused a minor blizzard inside, short-circuited all the electronics and put the store out of stock, sort of accidentally caused the place to go out of business, and got all the weathermen scratching their heads for a while. Nothing major."

"…Right," Jamie said. "Well, come on, then. I'll teach you how to play."

They hurried back to Jamie's house, where the younger boy popped a disk into the game console and handed Jack a controller.

"Move this stick to walk around, move this one to look around, press this button to aim, and click this to shoot. You can just watch me at first."

Jamie chose a level and started the shooting game, getting engrossed in it and almost forgetting that Jack was there. At the end of the level he whooped in victory, and then turned to look at Jack with a grin. "Fun, right?"

Jack looked mildly alarmed. "Isn't that… you know, kind of violent? For a kid your age to be shooting people?"

Jamie rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, Jack, it's just a game. And they respawn once you kill them. Here, you try."

Jack picked up the controller as Jamie started an easy level, looking a little unsure. "Which button is shoot again?"

"This one. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."

The level began, and Jack's character was shot down within the first ten seconds.

"Hey!" Jack protested. "Are they allowed to do that?"

"They can do whatever they want," Jamie explained. "It is a war game, you know."

Jack respawned and began to move around the battlefield, getting killed several more times before he managed to get a kill of his own.

"Yeah, you got it! Look out behind you- oh, never mind. Too late."

"Well how was I supposed to know he was there?"

"You just have to be aware of where everyone is."

"That's kind of hard to do when they're coming from every direction at once!"

"Just try to keep looking around- grenade incoming!"

"Grenade- what?"

"Well it's too late now."

"You never said there were grenades!"

"I thought it went without saying!"

"No, it doesn't go without saying! This is my first time, Jamie!"

"Well, now you know! Oh, and you might want to watch out for the airstrikes, too."

"The… the what?"

This went on for the rest of the game, until the level ended and the scoreboards popped up on screen. Jack, of course, was in dead last.

"Well, that's not so bad for your first time," Jamie consoled him. "You only got killed… uh, fifty-seven times…"

Jack set his face in a determined expression and picked up the controller again. "Turn on another round. I am going to get this."

A couple hours later, Jack had considerably developed his gaming skills, enough that he could hold his own. With Jamie on his team, they even scored third or fourth place in a game a few times. Eventually, though, Jamie's mom called him to dinner and Jack left.

Two days later, however, he showed up again while Jamie was celebrating the fact that it was Friday by falling asleep face first on top of his bed. Jack shook him awake, his mischievous smile the first thing Jamie saw.

"Hey," he greeted, holding up one of those snow globe portal things. "I have something to show you."

* * *

North had walked in on Jack doing some pretty strange things in the last places he expected all over the Pole before. There was the time he had discovered him playing the piano in that old storage room, totally absorbed and completely unaware of North's presence as he listened in awe. There was the time he had stopped what was sure to be a disaster in the making when he had found him in the kitchen surrounded by a small crowd of elves and trying to pick the lock on the sugar cabinet. There was the time he had stumbled upon him in a secluded corner of the library while looking for some old records, surrounded by books on every side. He hadn't even noticed North, too caught up in his book with a dragon on the cover, muttering to himself about hiccups and dragons without teeth, which made no sense to North.

But looking into the video game testing room while passing by to see Jack holding off a protesting Jamie with one hand while screaming _Die! _at the screen, was the strangest incident of all.

He was, quite understandably, rather alarmed at this.

"Jack!" he exclaimed, stepping into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, hey North," Jack said without looking away from the screen, furiously pressing a button on his controller repeatedly. "I'm beating Jamie at Call of Duty."

"Only because you won't give me my controller back!" Jamie said, continuing to reach for it only to be held at arm's length.

"Jamie is not supposed to be here," North chided him. "Children are not allowed at the Pole except for special circumstances, you know that."

Jamie shot Jack a furious look. "If you get me put on the naughty list, I swear…"

"Pfft," Jack said dismissively. "Please. The naughty list is much more fun, trust me." There was an explosion on the screen. "Yes!" Jack shouted in victory. "I won!"

He handed Jamie his controller back with a smirk just as the scoreboards came up. "That's how it's done."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "You are such a cheater."

"Did you hear me, Jack?" North said.

Jack sighed. "Yeah, yeah, Jamie's not supposed to be here. But come on, North, you have so many cool games here! Just let him stay for two more hours, that's all."

"Fine," North agreed. "But don't go anywhere besides this room."

"Will do," Jack said, turning his attention back to the game. "Alright, kiddo, let's see if you can beat me. Though I seriously doubt you can."

"Oh, you asked for it..."

North left the room with the vague feeling that Jack hadn't really registered a word he'd said.

It was five hours later when a yeti came rushing into North's office with the news that one of the experimental virtual reality games in the testing room had caused a minor explosion. Neither Jack nor Jamie was in sight when North went to check it out, though he couldn't say he was surprised. Jack was notorious for fleeing the scene of the crime before he could be caught. North wasn't very happy about dealing with the damage to the testing room and several traumatized elves, though.

Jack was, from that point forward, banned from the game testing room and expressly forbidden from playing anything in it.

Not that he listened, of course.

* * *

**I apologize because this could have been out sooner if I hadn't made the mistake/best decision I ever made of watching the TV show ****_Supernatural_**** and getting completely sucked in and watching the entire first season over the span of two days. But what can I say. It's awesome.**

**Yes, there was a HTTYD reference in there. Couldn't resist.**

**And hey! 100 followers! Yaaaaaaaaayyyyy! Cookies all around!**

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**There. One for each of you, if I counted right :)**


	46. A Thousand Smiles

Tooth figured she was probably the only person who noticed everything about a person's smile. It was just a natural thing for her; she noticed everyone's teeth, so by default it was only reasonable that she noticed their smiles.

The thing about smiles was that every person had a variety of them- from happy smiles to guilty smiles, from smug smiles to humble ones. A smile was like a fingerprint: unique, personal, an identity. And she noticed every one of them.

She noticed that when Bunny smiled, it was almost like he was afraid to. He didn't show any of his teeth, but the smile, small as it was, was so true and real that it didn't matter.

North, on the other hand, smiled whenever he got the chance. His smiles were almost always accompanied by his big booming laugh, the one that was so contagious that it got everyone else in the room started too, doubling over with laughter until their stomachs hurt and their cheeks ached.

Sandy's smiles were just like the rest of him; quiet, humble, and cheerful. They were so bright and reassuring that no matter how horrible the rest of your day had been, all it took was one of Sandy's smiles to cheer you up.

Tooth knew her own smile was big and bright and blinding white; she made sure of it. After all, how could she expect the children to keep their teeth brushed and flossed if her own weren't perfectly spotless?

But Tooth probably noticed Jack's smile most of all. It wasn't because she stared at his smile when he wasn't looking every chance she got- nope, not at all. It was just… well, how could anyone _not _notice Jack's smile?

Or his _smiles _really, because he had quite a few of them. There was the happy smile, the big, innocent grin that momentarily took away her breath because _how was it possible for his teeth to be so perfect?_ There was the mischievous smile, the sly smirk that pulled one side of his mouth up just a bit higher than the other and warned her she better watch her step until she found out just what sort of prank he had pulled this time. There was the amazed smile, when his mouth dropped open and the corners of his lips upturned only slightly, usually when he was confronted with some new wonder, like the first time he had seen the North Pole, or the Tooth Palace, or the Warren. There was the crooked, pleading smile when he knew he was in trouble and his only option left was to turn on the innocent look and the puppy dog eyes- and it always worked on her, of course.

Then there were the other smiles, the ones that she saw far less often. The ones that on any other person's face would have been frowns. Like his angry smile, the dangerous smirk that warned whoever had caused it that they had gone a step too far this time. Or his scared smile, the one that was too big and too forced to be real, and that didn't reach his eyes where the real emotion was. And his sad smile that almost wasn't there at all, that told her yes, he was sad, but it was okay. He didn't want her to be too.

It seemed like Jack had about a thousand smiles, and Tooth could recognize them all. That wasn't weird, was it? It wasn't weird that she thought his smile, no matter what kind it was, was his best feature? It wasn't weird that her heart beat just a little bit faster whenever he gave her one of his smiles? It wasn't weird that she felt like she knew more about him just from watching him smile than she had learned from their everyday conversation?

Maybe it was. But if she was honest with herself, she didn't really care. Tooth always thought that smiles could tell you just as much about a person as anything else could.

It was hard to get Jack to talk about something he didn't want to. He would usually change the subject, or laugh it off, or just make up an excuse to leave. It was a defense mechanism of some sort, though defense from what Tooth could never understand. It frustrated her to no end sometimes, because there were times when Jack just shut everyone out. She had learned to stay away from the subjects that caused him to do that, usually delicate questions about his past- both as a human and a spirit.

So no, Jack didn't talk about the serious stuff much- but he was always smiling. And Tooth could hardly be blamed for taking advantage of that.

Maybe Jack did prefer to keep his secrets- and well, who could blame him. Everyone had secrets; everyone had things they would rather forget, Tooth included. And maybe that did make it hard for Tooth to figure him out. Maybe it did frustrate her that Jack wasn't an open book as she would have liked.

But that was okay. She had an eternity to wait for Jack to open up, and in the meantime she could just take delight in every smile, every laugh, every smirk, every grin. Because each smile took her one step closer.

* * *

**Truth is I don't even know where I was going with this.**

**Yes, I suppose there is some ToothxJack in there. But as far as I'm concerned, Tooth having a crush on Jack is completely canon.**


End file.
